In my day, we had to catch the last T at 9 p.m., or we walked home. When I was coming up, gentlemen asked if a lady wanted some post-coital water or pudding. When I was wee, we only got hot dogs on game day, and we had to read the news ourselves if we wanted to seem smart at the bar. We didn’t have these new fangled Internets to do it for us. Kids today.
The T will start running late night weekend service on March 28, and Boston food trucks will have extended hours (til midnight) starting April 1, so you’ll have some food to sop up all the Long Island Ice Teas sloshing around in your small intestine. Ah, to be young in Boston!
Keith Richards is working on a children’s picture book, which will undoubtedly star an anthropomorphic line of cocaine.
Taking into account that the snowpocalypse, cut-throat space saving, endless parking tickets, and all the crazies on the road make it far too easy to drive in Boston, MassDOT announces that it will hike registration and inspection fees, giving Masshole drivers just one more reason to smile and wave their middle fingers.
Worcester Polytechnic Institute is investigating its fraternities because female students complained that, after having sex with a frat boy, his “brothers” ran in and poured water on them or pelted them with ice or pudding (the reports did not indicate what flavor it was). Just in case there’s any confusion among our athletically inclined readers: Normal people don’t want ice cold liquid poured all over them after they “score.”
Officials may be closing in on the wreckage of the mysterious Malaysian Airlines flight, with reports it may have gone down in the Indian Ocean. So, doff the tin foil hat and don’t bring up those alien/NSA/mini black hole/Bermuda Triangle theories at the bar if, you know, you want people to talk to you.
The Red Sox win city approval to open a hot dog stand on Lansdowne Street when the team isn’t playing, so that clueless tourists who visit Fenway on the wrong day can eat away their pain and whatever animal byproducts go into Fenway Franks these days.
SXSW ought to officially add “outlaws” to its music/film/tech portfolio. First, former NSA contractor and government secrets leaker Edward Snowden video-conferences with geeks at the conference in Austin, then Justin Bieber kicks off his video deposition tour with an intimate performance at Banger’s Sausage House.
There is a sinkhole in South Boston, forming a crater that’s devouring the brickwork behind the Moakley Courthouse. Your weekly pickup line is the end-of-the-world angle. “In these troubling times, wouldn’t you like to have someone to grab onto, in case the ground suddenly gives?” or, “Which is worse: Me, or falling through a hole in the earth?”
[Photo Credit: John Greland via instagram]