Independence, Hale Yeah

I'm in Philadelphia visiting the most amazing girl in the world, my best friend Netta. Together with Andy, we've set out to malign Craig'sList with "Missed Connection" posts. We've been making eye contact with EVERYONE in an attempt to rouse a fleeting sense of communion with a stranger. Loads of fun for us! Netta and I went to Steve Madden where I met Francisco, a saucy shoe salesman who "appreciated my energy." After that we went to Penn's Landing and ate Belgian fries with the guidos who had migrated north to the birth of liberty. We lounged on a bench at Rittenhouse Square and solicited more MCs. Philly has some gorgeous Jewish men, noncommittal Nantucketeers, and fabulously svelte FabMo-Agyness Deyn wannabe couples. We walked back to West Philly while discussing The Ex-Boyfriend and the regrettable hypocrisy in knowing your garcon du jour is mid-break-up with another girl. We found ugliness travels in circles, and, like a former friend from middle school professed via Internet, "karma will be a bigger bitch then [sic] I will ever have to be."

And now we close the evening with Trevor-by-day I Married My High School Sweet Heart, the laptop genius of which formed timely electronica ballads of heartbreak (duh) and ANGST. Teenage Angst, gross!!!