Bossy knows you are all sick to death of her posts about how much she loves the city, the city the city, until your ears bleed and your eyes swell shut.

But did Bossy ever tell you she loves the city on a rainy, quiet, Monday night?

Last night Bossy had the chance to hang out until all hours of the night in a Mexican restaurant with her Philadelphia blog posse, and special guest from out of town, Daddy Scratches.

Thanks Lora and Momish and Uppercasewoman and Ruth and Well-Read Hostess and Nutmeg and the Domestic Goddess.

Welcome to Bossy’s Ear Worm, which features songs currently in Bossy’s headphones. Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.

Bob Dylan, Just Like A Woman.

The thing that slays Bossy about this song off of Dylan’s 1966 record, Blonde on Blonde, is that musically, at its core, it’s really a 1950s song in the tradition of bands like The Five Satins and The Roulettes. But Bob’s poetry and sensibility made it sound so new, and the song holds up across time.

Speaking of Blonde on Blonde and the above album cover which Bossy remembers staring at for hours on end, Bossy thinks this is where she developed her taste for men in scarves.

For all of you single-season types who are all, “Oh I miss the North and the cobblestone streets and…” — don’t forget about the other side of seasonal living. These!

The scruffbucket and the great expressions on his face.

Now with special Brookstone catalogue bonus shot:

Parallel parking.

Not only can Bossy get her car into impossibly small parking spaces, she does it utilizing only one reverse and one forward adjustment. Oh yeah, Bossy rocks the parking space, always has and always will. As her grandfather Walt used to say, “Just like a body in a coffin.”

bossy’s car in red. Stay tuned for a tutorial.

Bossy grew up in a neighborhood with many cobblestone streets.

As a matter of fact, when Bossy was a young girl in her parent’s car, sleeping on the way home from a far-flung destination, the cobblestones under the tires would wake Bossy up. And the funny thing, Bossy had the very particular sounds of those cobblestones memorized — the extra bumpy part, the just-fixed smooth part, the part with many depressions…

… Even with eyes closed Bossy always knew exactly which part of which street she was on, because those cobblestones always meant home.

Bossy thought she had nothing more to say about common misspellings, but ever so unfortunately it’s a slow week at Camp Bossy and there is more.

The other day Bossy was trying to type the word who and instead typed ho which is apparently just fine with Spellcheck, even though every single time Bossy types her own website name, iambossy, spellcheck is all Do you mean embassy?

And one more thing.

Der Onelook Dictionary.com, how come no matter which word Bossy types into your provided field, you say it is a surname?

Finally, Bossy would like to announce the winner of her latest Match Game contest: congratulations Grandma J, you won some coffee!