Welcome to Hamburger in Pittsburgh!
My name is Mandy, and I will be your tour guide through this blog and most future blog posts. So just sit back, relax and enjoy the read:
Q: What exactly is a Hamburger, beyond the obvious?
I am a Hamburger, meaning I come from a small town in PA called Hamburg.
NOTE: Do not, under any circumstances, call anyone else from Hamburg a Hamburger. They will break you. I have willingly taken this name upon myself as a fun little moniker, but trust me, no one else in Hamburg will think it's funny. Also, do not ask any Hamburg resident if he/she lives next door to French Fries. This is also not funny and could result in broken limbs.
Q: Where is this mythical, occasionally violent place?
Hamburg is over on the east side of Pennsylvania, about a 30-minute drive north of Reading, an hour-and-a-half northwest of Philly, and about four-and-a-half hours east of Pittsburgh.
Hamburg is home to about 4,100 people, most with German-sounding surnames who like to say "If you ain't [Pennsylvania] Dutch, you ain't much." Our claim to fame: The King Frost Parade and a Cabela's. Booya.
Q: Can you tell us a bit more about this blog and what we can expect here?
Yes. And no.
I can tell you that I plan to write about Pittsburgh as a newbie like me sees it. I plan to explore and share what I find out about this new Burgh I call home. I want to check out the arts and theatre scene, learn about local celebrities, eat at the local restaurants, shop at the boutiques (and hopefully find some bargains), and because I am obsessed with the intrawebs, I even want to know what the geeks are up to around here.
But that's all I can really tell you. Who knows what I'll find or how it will all end up in blog form. I'm pretty excited about it though.
Q: How did a girl from Pennsylvania’s blustery northeast wind up in Pennsylvania’s blustery northwest?
My story is one of true love and sacrifice.
See, my boyfriend wanted to go back to school to become a pharmacist, and he wanted to go to Pittsburgh to do it. So I said, "You can't get rid of me that easily, butt-wipe," and I left my family and hometown and bought us a cute little poop-ridden house (more on that later) in the south hills of Pittsburgh.
But I wasn't completely uprooting myself—I was planning to keep my old job. My employer agreed to let me stay on and work from my new digs in the Burgh, and it was gonna be great. Until this delightful economy put an end to that, which means I'm not working, which means the sacrifice I made by moving here was a little bigger than I expected. It's cool though, I love my man. He's worth it. Probably.
Q: Can you tell us about your first impressions of your new home?
Yes, I certainly can. But you'll have to come back. This answer deserves its very own post. <Cue dramatic, foreshadowing-type music>
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