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About New York City

So, I’m stompin’ round, lookin’ for a good time, right? Ain’t no saint, me—blood on hands, scars on face, but I got needs! Dis one time, saw a gal, fishnets rippin’, smokin’ a cig like she owns da night. “Lightbulb!”—she’s got dat look, ya know, like she could lure ya in and gut ya. Straight outta dat movie, “I collect things”—she prob collects wallets, ha! I go up, all cocky, “How much, eh?” She smirks, “More dan ya soul, big boy.” Pissed me off—cheeky tart!—but damn, I laughed. Ain’t dat a kicker?

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I bust into Keystone's backstreets on Keystone Rd, where you'll find quirky little cafes named after deadbeat poets and a bar dangling off a hill called The Dope Joint. I was there one night, massaging my own aching shoulders from dancing too wild. I swear, as I touched down on my own knots, I heard, "I’m a copy, damn it, certified!" echoing in my head—so surreal, right?

Penn State Hosts Battle of the Keystone State Against Pittsburgh Tuesday