I don’t usually go on and on about where I actually live.  I prefer to think my readers think I live in a castle.  Or that I am just some kind of mysterious person who makes these entries from some kind of secret location.

Alas, nothing so glamourous.  I like in Allston.  Allston is a neighborhood of Boston that features college students, bad public transportation, Brazilian (you name it) and really a lot of CVSs.  Just like central Boston.

What I love about Boston is that it just doesn’t care if you like it.  Seriously.  Absolutely this is a city that does not care whatsoever that you like it.  Which makes me like it.  I mean this is a place full of people in costumes doing bad magic tricks and telling corny jokes about root canals.

But within Boston, Allston is an even more special case.  Whereas Boston keeps it hidden that it does not care if you like it, Allston advertises its badness.  I like that too.  It refers to itself as “Allston rat city” because we have mice and rats here the size of dogs.  There is Allston-mas where people put out old furniture on the street just to take.  Lots of funny little ways it celebrates its badness.

So, when I saw this sign recently, which is not an ad campaign for Allston, but might as well be, I found it very fitting: