okay, alright, I get it. I'm flattered.

Glad to hear I've been missed. It's flattering, really. It's been a rough week. Ya'll have heard that before, we have frequent ones around here these days. But when life gives you lemons, sister soldia over here makes lemon martinis. Anyone care for a drink?

1 gave me a good idea, though. I neglected a very important kvetch upon my return from Philly. The Cheesesteak. This is a rite of passage in Philadelphia. These Italian mobster guys compete for the longest line outside their joint, and I have to say, it's pretty worth it - the 3 hours you might wait for a taste of the goodness, that is.

What is that goodness, you ask? I'm sure you've all had a cheesesteak, but I can vouch that unless you have had one in Philly (or in Yankee stadium) you have tasted an impostor. Yup, that's right. Your shaved meats and cheeses on a roll may have tasted good, but probably weren't the heart attack inducing delights you would feast upon in Fat-a-delphia.

Nope. In Fat-a-delphia, it's WIT WIZ. (that means wit onions and wiz.) A big fat, carb loaded roll, drenched in cheese whiz that is literally dripping through the doughy pores. Then they slap in some meats - grade D beef, shredded to within an inch of its life and then they mix in some onions for good measure, because onions are a vegetable, right? So maybe you won't feel SO fat. And then they dollop you off with a little more whiz. Like the maraschino cherry on the top of a sundae.

After you've waited for hours for this tasty treat, you savor each delectable bite until you are licking processed whiz from out of your finger nails. Which you'll be doing for about 2.5 days, FYI.

And then the stomach turning starts.

Skip to the loo, my darlin'.

And someone please remind me to stick to treats like Rita's water ice the next time I visit the city of Brotherly Love. Especially prior to a 2 hour drive back to the NYC. With H-ette. And AM radio.