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About Philadelphia

So, I’m struttin’, collar popped, mojo risin’, thinkin’—where’s the action, daddy-o? Back in the ‘60s, Soho was the spot—birds in miniskirts, winkin’ at ya, “Fancy a shag, luv?” Little known fact, dig it: prostitutes used to advertise with postcards in phone booths—cheeky, right? None of that Tinder rubbish, just pure, old-school hustle. Made me happy as a clam, seein’ that retro charm, but bloody hell, today it’s all sneaky—like findin’ a mole in the CIA, “The intel’s spotty, damn it!”

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Metro spots, like that vintage liquor joint on Jefferson Blvd, silly, become stories that warm the heart. Yeah, I get emotional - the buzz, the ocd of good times. Once, I got mad at a noisy motorbike on Cedar Lane. Really pissed, I was. But then, oh, so happy I felt when a stray pup wagged at my spa door. Life's full, it is, with surprises.

Road closures and stoppages for Route 422 project on tap next week