david schrott is everywhere

4 days in the ‘ster.

Posted in Uncategorized by thebreakfastdictator on 03/31/2011

that's one huge egg

My mom was on the organic trend long before it was hip or even well known. When we were kids, she’d truck us around in the longest of Oldsmobile station wagons going from farm to farm and fruit stand to fruit stand, carefully picking out the best of the best, non-pesticide, non-chemically altered produce. As a 9 year old who only wanted to play baseball and little else, this was eternally exasperating. Now, when I come home, there’s still an abundance of organic this-and-that and I particularly marvel at the eggs. They’re humongous and they come from a little Mennonite farm just south of Lampeter, Pennsylvania. An elderly couple lives there and they carefully gather these bigger-than-golf-ball sized eggs on a daily basis.

One of those eggs is enough to make an enormous breakfast sandwich. I wonder why restaurants in the big city haven’t caught on. I think these monsters sell for like a dollar a dozen.

Thanks to a sick ticket connection, we scored tickets to last week’s Penguins vs Flyers game in Philly — face value ($78 each) for 5th row in the second level behind the goal the Pens shot at twice. You could see everything and the Pens won in a shootout. The Philly fans were surprisingly civil. Most of them engaged us as hockey fans rather than rivals. The guys on the Orange Line even shook our hands and told us good-luck. That was mostly unexpected as, in the past, I’ve been cussed out of South Philly bars for trying to get a Pens’ playoff game on TV over a meaningless April Phillies’ game. The night wasn’t without exception though. Between the second and third periods, I went to the EMT for an Advil to hopefully kill of my dehydration-induced migraine and on my way back three teenage W.T. Flyers fans called me an a**hole and told me to f*** off. After the shootout, an angry Flyers fan and a mouthy Yinzer went at it in the bathroom and I thought for sure the place was about to erupt on the minority of us painfully waiting to empty our bladders. Finally, while walking down Broad on the way home, a car zipping down the street jammed its breaks on halfway down the block just to roll down the window and scream a giant “FUCK YOU” at us. That was actually one of the most rewarding things about the night.

I love Philadelphia’s sports-induced pain. It’s almost as cruel as Cleveland’s and that’s awfully satisfying, especially when I get ragged on continually for reppin’ the hometown.

Jealousy’s a bitch.

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