Que Seraph Seraph

Last week a 2002 Rolls Royce Silver Seraph bearing a FOR SALE sign suddenly appeared on the lawn of one of the execu-estates here in Lexy. Who this drive-by display was meant to appeal to is unknown. I mean, who owns a Rolls Royce besides oil sheiks and Thurston Howell III? Hmm, does it come with a driver?

Due to complaints from peevish readers, we have added an additional photo to this blog entry. It features, among other things, the bike rack outside the West Side YMCA on 63rd Street that was responsible for the tripping, falling, wrist-breaking incident earlier this year. Note that this is also the same bad-luck YMCA where Mark David Chapman stayed in 1980.

Camm-o-Glam

After the 100th email complaining that "Patti's not in the pix!" I arranged a rush photo session featuring my newest fashion item: camouflage pattern cargo pants. Made to render combat troops invisible among the weeds, jungle cammo is still very popular in certain hippie-fied sections of Cambridge, and I am told it's mandatory at gun clubs in the suburbs. Not that the we're trying to hide from anything. Just the opposite. We like the rough n' ready air it gives us. Especially when fighting for parking spaces [me first at the health club + (W)hol(e)y Foods]. As those who know me know: I'm rough 'n' tough; don't take no stuff.