Friday, September 29, 2006

now I've been smiling lately/thinking about the good things to come

1. In excellent hereditary news, my father has decided to give a big Cash-esque middle finger to arthritis and degenerative disc disease, hop himsef' up on a perfectly pleasant Vicodin/Percocet/whatever cocktail, and sit his ass on that red-eye to Rome. This is wonderful news in a variety of ways - one, he gets to leave the country for the first time (okay - Canada, Mexico, and Vietnam probably count, but follow my reasoning here. He won't be actively part of a war, nor will he be passed out in a tattoo parlor with his roommates during an extended cross-continent motorcycle trip.) My mother has stopped crying. Their millionth anniversary will be celebrated. Plane tickets will not go to waste. All is right in the world.

Well, until he comes back from this vacation, and gets put into traction, and has another neurosurgery consultation. But whatever, fuck it! Ciao bella!

2. Sigh. Zitty faced brats I used to babysit? Now all cute, all tattooed, and all running screamo bands.

I wore mom jeans to work today. Hot.

3. Pitchfork reviews "Boys n Girls" today. Or, stream the entire album.

Um- also. Popbytes offers Junior Vasquez's remake of Dolly Parton's cover of Cat Steven's Peace Train. What? Right, I can't follow it either. Also, hi trance music. Go away.

4. Went to the Renn Faire. Saw the Renn Faire. Experienced the Renn Faire. Check Flickr. It was fucking awesome. It was all worth it just to hear the Mortal Combat-style screams of this one particular kid, a little boy dressed as a Viking who was so ADD and hopped up on Ye Olde Fried Ice Cream and Merry Maiden Cotton Candy he could barely get through the Fayregrounds without his head exploding from delight.

Also, back cleavage.

* * *

PS, people: no more memes. Memes are hard! We can't even remember what we brought to work today for lunch, let alone a book that has changed our lives. We'll get to it, eventually.


it's not that exciting really, I just remembered how much I hate Sark.

sound advice of the week, #2

never. ever. ever. get involved. in planning any sort of reunion thing.


Something totally awesome I did not know until today:

The Falls Church, VA branch of Planned Parenthood has established an "L Clinic" (although to be perfectly fair, it should probs be named the "L/B/T Clinic.")

Yeah, that's right: FALLS CHURCH, people.

The G: i dont want to hear any more shit about how much better old-bluestate DC is than old redstate VA. Macaca-ass be damned.

K: hahaha!!! northern virginia isn't quite redstate VA

The G: true. but we're grouped unfairly-->POUT. show me yr transgenered clinics in DC. come on. PROVE YOURSELVES, CITYFOLK.

Okay, I know it's not really a state thing. I know. But still. It pleases me ever-so-slightly.


Can you tag-team a mem you've been tagged on? This is a lot of pressure!

Blogpeoples thus far have very intelligent answers to these literary questions. Dammit. I am gonna guess that our rambling is going to be more of the sort of "OMG Marvel's Irredeemable Ant-Man #1 comes out soon!!!!!1"

More later, we need to craft our response to this monster carefully.

Thursday, September 28, 2006


On most of the beautiful days when you wander around the city during lunch you don’t see much: a few dodgy pigeons, dudes handing out flyers about Zipcar, that guy who wears headphones and yells, etc. But not today. Sometimes when you cross the street and you find yourself staring at Borat.


Sacha Baron Cohen was in character and in town doing what appeared to be a bit of publicity for his film. I assume it’s related to the arrival of the Kazakhstan President tomorrow at the White House (since it was in front of the embassy on 16th) but us gawkers in the back couldn’t really hear what he was saying.

He took off after speaking for a few minutes but not before uniformed Secret Service took down the US and Kazakhstan flags staged behind him. They probably had the authority to bust up the whole thing (the people in the embassy were certainly none to pleased to see him) but I assume that’s just what Cohen’s producers wanted. Either way, he was done before the police could make up their mind about what to do.

Cohen wrapped up and wandered off down the street. He left his little sidekick behind to hand out Kazakhstan lapel pins and pose for awkward pictures.

What a delightfully strange little man.

crush me in the crowds/I'll be in the clouds

Small things:

1. Bedrock is the smokiest fucking bar in the universe.
2. Catching up with old friends via cell late at night, patching up old wounds/much-needed apologies: retardedly awesome.
3. My entire house smelling like Sweet Baby Rays barbeque sauce /my dog breaking vases/wood chips in our garbage disposal (the hell???): not so retardedly awesome
4. Movies by friends: totally retardedly awesome
5. And, as pointed out by Catherine- Renaissance Festivals?: BEYOND RETARDEDLY AWESOME. Pics from this upcoming weekend surely to follow.

That is really all that’s going down lately. Oh, well, except for the fact that the N. and I couldn’t remember the definition of the word “creed” the other day and had to come home and look it up; and also, we’re currently in a heated debate over who gets to blog about a certain subject first. It involves comics. It is ALSO RETARDEDLY AWESOME.

How many times can I use the non-word “retardedly”? Lots, it appears.



Wednesday, September 27, 2006

birds of a feather. maybe.

It's a non-choice, really: if one was forced at gunpoint to hang out at Hef's house and you know, carry on a conversation or something instead of just the usual participating-in-a-sequined-orgy, the obvious GND you befriend first is Holly Madison.

On this, the N. and I agree heartily.

* * *

PS here's a total timewaster for you. WHO WANTS TO GO TO A RAVE I DO.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

visual accompaniment

The Internet demands; the Nabob delivers:

My next fish is going to be named RoboBadger.

Also born today: Shannon Hoon

Update: They don’t change much.

Added a little something about Jefferson, Justice Rehnquist* and Boeing. Dropped Santayana. Kept TS Elliott, Philly, Cuba and Biosphere. In fact, they used the exact same language describing the Stephen Baldwin: Beyond BioDome. The only difference seems to be that a new copy editor came in and demanded that they not use the past tense. I'm not srue if one is more right but as long as it’s consistent throughout I think they can both work.

I do have one issue though. True Jefferson was sworn in on this day but so were several other members of Washington’s first cabinet (ahem, Post Master General Samuel Osgood) and the first Chief Justice, John Jay. I don’t think it’s fair that only TJ warrants a mention. And why bring up Rehnquist, who was the 16th, and not Jay, who was #1? Plus, he had the shortest last name of any CJ, beating out fat ol’ Taft by one letter. Way to go, Jay!

Here’s what I think you really need to know about September 26.

Died: Robert Plamer - 2003
Born: Jack LaLanne – 1914
Debut: Bob Dylan to the public on stage -1961
Brady Bunch on ABC - 1969
Abbey Road (album not studio) - 1969

And, of course, Chief Justice Frankenberry sworn in.

Toot toot!

*Rehnquist spoke at my high school graduation. It resulted in my first negative run-in with the US Marshall Service. His daughter also lived next-door to a friend of mine and we threw up in her backyard. For the sake of documentation and this post let’s say it happened on this day, September 26, 1995. Barf!

this entry brought to you by the wisconsin alumni association

So, in my and the N's quest to morph ourselves into giant old smelly liberal carpoolers (the metro DC version of Marty and Bobbbi Culp or something!), we listen to NPR. Every morning. Mostly.

Occasionally, this pays off in large, exciting, and unexpected ways. This morning, the sad and emotional saga of the Black-Footed Ferret was spun on the air. The gist of it: Black-Footed Ferrets are in danger.

After a rebuilding program, courtesy the Save Our Black Footed Ferrets Foundation of the Greater Metro Denver Area*, the BFF** have come back from near extinction in recent years. The BFF's are the only native ferrets to this country, the rest of them (pets of girls who douse themselves in patchouli, my husbands ex-roommates***, etc) came over from Europe, probably resting around the necks of semi-blue-blooded German teens named Erskine.

Anyways, BFF's are maybe going to become extinct again, becaues ranchers are proposing legislation to kill off prairie dogs. BFFs eat prairie dogs. Actually, apparently, they are kind of assholes and rip prairie dogs to shreds, which is sad, but shit. Girl gotta eat.

Also, they interviewed a rancher who was all like: kill prarie dogs, there's no grass left! And grass is really good for the environment, since we're called a "grassland!" I'm just thinking of the environment, people! Also, maybe my cattle could graze.

This is all just rambling background for the best part of the story:

Apparently at this center in Colorado, when they raised baby BFF, they slowly introduced them to the outside world before releasing them into the wild. They would put them in large cages outdoors, and then train them to fear their natural predators.

Like badgers.

And to do this, they used something called the RoboBadger.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

I am pretty sure that Dave Barry has already touched on all this, but fuck it. I am so in love with the idea of RoboBadgers I can barely remain conscious.

Quote of the millenium:
"We had this thing called Robo-Badger. It was this mechanized badger that we would drive around the pens to try and scare the ferrets," says Marinari. "And, you know, when the ferrets started riding on the back of the badger, we kind of thought, 'Well, let’s move to something else…'" -- Official BFF Hero


aksdhusrhwh3583u5y593 e5qwe4aZ*ifggggrgaaaarrrrrswwoooooooonnnnn.

* I made this name up.
** hee hee.
*** this particular ferret was named Schmoopie, and Schmoops liked to pee in corners. So the roommates would sprinkle CAYENNE PEPPER on the CARPET in the corners because Schmoopie didn't like cayenne pepper. This would explain why the carpet in every corner of the house was orange and the entire place smelled like ferret piss, BO, gym socks, and jerk chicken.

Monday, September 25, 2006

chemicals will hit you/chemicals will knock you down

News from Hopper:
Neon Golden was a full four years ago, but looks like Notwist is making a new record-- presented in real time! If that's what you can infer from that pro-tools desk and the guy reading the paper on the futon.

Do you remember where you were the first time you heard Neon Golden, Internet? I do. I was sitting in my car in the driveway of the house I lived in, eating a HandiSnack (butterscotch) and praying for the roof to cave in. No less than a year (maybe 2) later, the bathroom ceiling TOTALLY CAVED IN. Notwist, potentially German fortune tellers. Or something.

15 years ago today Pauly Shore got a legendary idea for a movie

I don’t know what I’m trying to prove here.

A slow morning with no quarters meant I read the Express cover to cover today. Question: Are there that many notable things that happen each day or does the paper have to run the same “Today In History” every year? Here’s last year’s September 26. Tune in tomorrow morning here or at your Metro stop for an update.

some sound advice

refrain from spilling an entire container of paint thinner in your basement and not opening any windows lest you really, relly want to kill your spouse and pet.

carry on.

"school play" - "free beer" - "local band"

I have a soft spot in my heart for these kids. They are seriously the world's kid-brother's-band, the surprise bonus being that they are enjoyable. And earnest! Okay, and kind of too emo but sometimes not! And thanked people for coming to watch them, without sounding, I dunno, like total pricks!

While the Hard Tomorrow's were pretty tight, you have to place your heart with the people that go on first. It's an unwritten barfly law or something. The HT's are polished and talented and likable, and yet I somehow kep wishing the scrappy ol' kids from the hour before would come back onstage and sing about their prom dates, just so I could shuffle their hair.

Anyways, it was nice to be back at DC9 again, after a summer of accidental-hermititude. Even nicer to time it to get there juuuuust as the curtains to upstairs were drawn back, and us old fat people could claim a place at the bar like the M/F version of Statler-n-Waldorf.

Also this weekend we cleaned the house, I got attacked by a swarm of moskeeters, and saw "Jackass:2"

OMG, Rennaissance Fair next Sat. Whattup back cleavage and ax throwing and turkey legs.

Friday, September 22, 2006

Joey McNoface

WOXY is dead. Long live WOXY.

My favorite online radio station is no more. It seems they succumbed to the high costs of trying to operate only over the internets without the needed advertising revenue. Alas.

WOXY had been around since the early 80s and was consistently rated one of the best independent and college stations in the country. (Their slogan "97X - Bam! - The Future of Rock & Roll” was uttered by Dustin Hoffman in Rainman and that clip was re-used as their station break) The original owners, to whom I am somehow related through my mother’s cousin, sold the place in 2004 and it had been struggling to stay afloat ever since. They powered down last Friday.

Since graduating from my own college DJing gig, WOXY was my prime source for new and good music. Every year they would play out their top 500 altenative hits of all time. I downloaded all of them and gave the CDs out as gifts. Most of the song’s currently in my l’il iPod were ones I first heard on WOXY. You could here them through iTunes but now the link just plays sad silence.

I now recommend KEXP. You can hear them online and through iTunes as well. They’re pretty similar but skew play a little more AAA. I’ve heard Dylan, Bowie and Snow Patrol in the last few hours. Not bad


Speaking of Bowie, we went to the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame last Friday morning before driving to Detroit to see the Tigers. In respect to the section displaying the various performance and video costumes, it was interesting to note that only the David Bowie mannequins bore any resemblance to their real life counterparts. Sure the “Tina Turner” had great legs and the “Christina Aguilera” was the size of a “Kid Sister” doll but no other one’s captured the artist’s entire essence like Bowie’s. They were extra glammy.

Oh, and all the N’ Sync mannequins had the same generically blank eyes, nose, mouth except Joey Fatone who’s had no features at all. It was just a void, slightly under-sized head. Maybe it was really the most accurate one of all.


And speaking a Fatone, I like how Joey says that his sitcom with Lance Bass is still in the works for the Veronica Mars channel but now that Lance has come out the only option left for him is to play a gay character...
Obviously the tables have turned now that Lance said he's gay. So, he'll be homosexual on the show. It's like ``The Odd Couple." It will be like a man's ``Will & Grace."
Wait. So Joey will play Grace and Lance will play a queer Felix? I’m not sure the public will watch that. He’s basically saying that Lance is such a bad performer that he can’t even act his way out of a gay paper bag.

Thursday, September 21, 2006

i love comment boards

I really really promised myself I was going to ignore this whole Maxim thing, just because it's the dumbest thing ever, EVER. But then:
This is an awesome discussion and us folks over at really appreciate it. The one thing some of you peeps are missing, though, is it's "Least Appealing" not "Least Attractive," and that's a big distinction. Almost all of these women are brilliant and very lovely. (Except Nancy Grace. We truly hate her.) But the bulk of these women remind us of mom or our sisters, as opposed to someone that exudes sex like most TV personalities are paid to do. Example: We'd love to hang and drink with Calamity Jane, but that's where the night would end. Regardless, keep talking and we'll be sure to come up with more stuff to make you hate us even more that we hate Nancy Grace.
-- Posted by: Editors

Dear Maxim Editors:

Shut up.

The Entire Fucking World

wow most of you are narrow.

i have a master's degree. drink expensive wine. have manners. never watch sports on tv.

and read maxim occasionally. it's funny. or at least used to be, it's gone downhill. but if it offends you, or think only louts read it, get a life. who wants to be with people who take things so seriously?
-- Posted by: sigh

Whattup Sigh!

You are the funniest thing I read on the internet today and I would really like to talk about pulling together an NBC pilot for next season that just stars you, your bottle of expensive wine, and your masters degree.

I'm not kidding, you're a riot.


It was really just kind of hard to stay up-in-arms and gyrl-power-bent after that, I was giggling too hard. Like ponies with rainbow streamers fo rhair had actually run right through my office.

Stephen Baldwin es el Diablo

It seems I picked the wrong few days to visit NYC as it’s the United Nation’s Everyone Gets a Platform Week in the Big Ap. This has meant that every cab ride comes with a complimentary tirade from the driver about how screwed up traffic is and a lesson in how that guy over there can grow fuck hisself. And don’t get ‘em started on the UN. They really don’t like it when the cops tell them that this block is “frozen” because Chirac may be having lunch nearby. He’ll also inform you about how your trip form the airport is taking away too much time from him getting other fares and how you have to get out here because he’s not going to drive to where you’re staying and have fun walking the last 6 blocks to your hotel.

A wiser choice would have been to come during last weekends Fashion Week when the city was rife with models and Lohan’s broken arm. Sure the same streets would have been shut down, all the cabs used up and the same number of people vomiting in the UN bathrooms but it would have been tall leggy women instead of these haughty diplomats with their musky odors. Or even better, NY would have combined this United Nations Day with Fashion Week into some sort of wondrous black Escalade, tinted windowed vamp out. What’re Mischa Barton and the Bolivian President Evo Morales both doing in that huge motorcade with a 10 motorcycle escort? Who cares, but they’re both wearing that same ugly assed sweater!

Several VIPs were staying at the Waldorf Astoria which meant more “frozen blocks.” I have never stayed at the joint but I did stick my nose in once after meeting someone nearby. Might you be interested in hearing a humorous anecdote about what happened during my visit? Because I have one.

The Waldorf is rather fancy with layers of plush carpets on the finest quarry marble and many gilded ornate things. As I was breezing about one of the busy main floor throughways, admiring the wedding I would never want, I could not help but notice a man with a video camera, walking backwards, pointing back at the man next to me. I also could help noticing that this other man was Stephen Baldwin. One of the lesser Baldwins but a Baldwin none the less.

The man with the camera inquired Steve what he though of New York and Baldwin replied he liked it very much. Next he was asked his impression of the hotel. Steve looked around at the chandeliers and Tiffany lamps and finger bowls but seemed at a loss for words. Fortunately for him, I was there with my 4th grade British school boy’s vocabulary.

“Hey man, how would you describe this place?” he asked me, squinting his eyes the same way he does when he’s being a serious actor*. “It’s pretty posh,” I replied.

“Yeah, man, posh,” he triumphed, turning back to the man with the camera. “This place is really posh.”

I quickly made my leave, letting Steve finish his single-syllabic interview without help.


Also, I saw John Rocker on TV yesterday, for some reason. I always thought he looked like someone had kidnapped Stephen Baldwin and subjected him to the Captain America super-serum project. And while they were able to make him bigger and stronger like Steve Rogers, they also hoped to make him dumber, racist and extra cross-eyed. The sound was off on my TV but from what I could tell from his T-shirt he was sporting the experiment was a success.

*He may have also given me that face where he tilts his head down but still tries to look up at you. That means he’s serious. Or if he talks in a scratchy, more quite voice. That’s his thang.

reading scandals

I've spent the past 15 minutes trying to write a blog entry entitled "My Husband's Friends May Be Afraid Of Black Girls Named Teela, Or At Least Afraid Of Detroit," but I'm not really sure that's true, and I am all about the truth here on the internet.

Here, go look at my favorite comic EVER instead.

Quality shit right there.

Oh, also, I have a cold and can't breathe.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Dirty Driver

As I stared at a salad plate of delicious wedding spinach on Saturday night I had 2 thoughts: does anyone read the paper anymore and how can I blog this trip? It’s too much.

This drunken, jangly trip of ours is over. Proposed on a whim, it incubated slowly, with the small unimportant bits planned attentively and the large crucial parts slapped together along the way, it will be recorded in the thing that records our lives as a success. Spanning 4 days, featuring a central cast of 7 characters (with a half dozen bit players tossed in for the sake of designated driving) it saw us treking 1200 miles in a rented 12 player white van. It was quite the sight to be-smell.

Stories from this trip will, in time, trickle out on this site. The G and I have challenged each other to write a recap, though it appears to be overwhelming for both of us.

Let’s start with a theme: dancing.

Day 1: On Thursday night (despite the efforts of an accident that had been cleared from the highway maybe 48 hours before we passed, yet still halted traffic for 45 minutes north of Frederick, MD) we rolled into Cleveland and the Jake in time to see, say, the 10th pitch. Several of our party loved the Indian’s stadium, though I found it just okay. It may have been our “eh” seats and my “bleh” hotdog, which I deem the worst of the three I had on this trip.

What does get a big foam thumbs up from me, though, was the stadium’s scoreboard (which someone claimed was the largest freestanding scoreboard in the world, whatever that means) and it’s accompany replay monitor (which someone else claimed was the third largest in the country, nah, the entire Earth 616). Being baseball fans but not growing up a Yankee fan during the 50’s we all really enjoyed the feature where explained the scorecard and how to fill it in as the plays occurred. A fielder’s choice wins you no money.

Along with they nice visual display at the park, I also think the Indians did a hell of a good job with their sound system/music selection. It only took about one inning to get my feet tapping and before long I was doing a jig for every inning break, call to the bullpen and batter theme song.

(Back story: the G gets very antsy when I start acting moving like this. This unease has its roots in the very second Nationals game where I complained (loudly) about a player’s error but was then told to sit down and STFU by his mother and sister who were sitting in front of us. Ever since then she makes sure that I am on my best behavior.)

The rhythm got me and my hips didn’t lie. But it seems that this was too much for some spouses to handle. After a few at bats, the not-so-subtle tug by the G at my sleeve became persistent. And then, to add to her embarrassment, someone threw money at me. (Note: The game was far from being sold out. In our entire section of about 130 seats there were maybe 25 people. No views were being blocked.)

Now, in my limited experience with giving other people money for dancing it was always because I enjoyed what they were doing to that pole. Never have I opened my wallet in an effort to end the gyrating. I viewed this other fan’s generosity in a similar manner. Other people married to me did not.

I was promptly told to “SIT DOWN, NOW!” by the Governess. Though she has been thoroughly embarrassed by her husband in the past but I have rarely seen that level of anger in her gorgeous hazel eyes.

So I sat. And outside the 7th inning stretch I stayed down, pouting in my seat.

Although I left the stadium a few cents richer.

Day 2: The Tiger’s Comerica Park - It is the Awesome.

While I still felt some lingering scarring from the night before, there was a very special moment when the 8 year old in front of us heard me singing along to “Ridin (Dirty),” looked back and simulated revving a motorcycle to the song. It became our own special dance whenever the player that had that as his theme song came up to bat.

The G may or may not have approved of that. You’ll have to ask her.

("Detroit was fine. The Cleveland shenanigans were what I call 'being a jackass, and not a particularly funny one at that.' " - Ed.)

Day 3: The Wedding – The dancing got off to a bad start as the DJ did not seem to be very up to date, (the opening chords of "Under Pressure" we were disappointingly realized to be, in fact, Robert Van Winkle) - out-of-date to the point of the mother of the bride came to our table and asked that we do something about it. Having ruined many a wedding, I figured it would be our little way of setting things right. We submitted our list and eventually people got out of their seats.

Unfortunately for me, because I need constant validation and whorish attention, the dance floor was completely hijacked by another guy. First, he had one of his friends boost him up off the ground so he could catch the garter, even though it was obvious none of the other men out there wanted it. Then he took the mic from the DJ and sang every verse of "It Takes Two". And when the groom announced there would be a Bring It On style dance off between the me and Garter-boy, this same Ben Grimm looking fellow opened with a god damned front flip into the splits, before I could even enter the circle.

I ask you- what type of mother fucker opens with a flip? Total bullshit, dude. Bad form too, laying down your best move before your competition has even loosened his tie. I don’t know where he learned your fancy drill team moves, but it clearly wasn’t the streets like me.

There were plenty of other shenanigans, like one of our proudly musically unaware friends insisting I go request “Dirty Driver” several times before I realized she meant she wanted to here “Ridin’ (Dirty).” Again.

Also, I haven’t even mentioned Pittsburgh on Sunday where we accidentally learned from someone outside of the DC blog community some rather personal and off-putting information about someone inside the DC blog community. Yikes! It’s totally gross! And not what you think! But we’ll save those things for other posts. Or maybe never.

let's do this thing

So, along with the dog hair sweaters, I've been doing some in-depth VC Andrews research, specifically on her estate's hired replacement- a guy in a golf shirt who kept the VC dream alive after her death.

I don't think you are adaquately prepared for this level of awesome, Internet:

"BLOOD CHILD, Berkley Books: "Dana and Harlan Hamilton, a couple in their late thirties, are about to have their first child, but the baby dies in the delivery room. Harlan presents his wife with an alternative: adopt a baby just born to an unwed teenager. The girl's family is anxious for the adoption, especially when the girl's mother learns Dana was going to breast feed. Dana does become infatuated with the infant and they take the child home. At home it is Harlan's teenage sister Colleen, who first discovers something unusual about the child. However, Dana, who is more and more possessed by the child is angry at her for making any suggestions and Colleen's boyfriend thinks she's crazy. Colleen invites her religious friend Audra to the house to see the baby and Audra's ostentatious cross causes the baby to become hysterical, but no one thinks anything of it. Dana's mother arrives to help with the baby, but Dana is so possessive, she even resents her own mother. One night her mother disappears. Colleen discovers Dana's mother's body in the woodshed, drained of blood. She faints and she is taken to the hospital. When she tells her brother what she saw, he goes back and finds nothing. A nurse arrives to help Dana with the infant. Dana's new doctor recommended her. The nurse begins to dominate the house and even seduces Harlan. After Colleen's friend Audra disappears, too, one night, Colleen goes searching for her and discovers a coven of vampires. In the resolution, Audra saves Colleen, even though Audra's been turned into a vampire. Harlan realizes the danger Dana is in and returns to the house just in time, but the nurse and the baby are gone. They're out there!"

Andrew Neiderman, I think I might be in love with you.


do you want to know what happens when you have a slow morning at yr careerplace and are spending some time on the internet searching for vintage sweater guards? The answer is that you stumble upon this.

Not what I was looking for really, but uh thanks?

(UPDATE: Oh, INDEED, people.)

conversations in the key of icelandic muppet squeal

This past weekend:

The G: So, how are the bridesmaids? Cute? Single? Willing to drunkenly hook up with the ushers in reception hall bathrooms?

J: Yeah, we'll see. One's the brides sister, so that's out. One seems nice, but I think there is a boyfriend. And the other one, I dunno. She's just kind of.... Bjorkish.

* * *

(PS - THE STREETS FEATURING P. DOHERTY, I know, right? huhwhaa?)

Palace of Wonders

The good parts about Showbar include super awesome friendly bartenders, (unconfirmed tattooed with John Wilkes Boothe), Bud in bottle, boater hats, pirate-themed-bar-smalltalk, arm wrestling, and no. crowds. at. all. Tuesdays are the new Thursdays are the new.... fuck it. I like drinking on Tuesdays, the end.

Actually, K. and I were the only ones there for a bit, and once the D showed up with a recently procured copy of Flowers in the Attic,* for me, dude, we were set for a night of cuddling & reading the "dirty" scenes & political ranting like you've never born witness to.

You want to proclaim love for your city, do it, but then leave NW for a smoke break or something. I know it's hard, but you will be rewarded with stuffed goaticorns and and other lovelies @ Showbar (from the Dime museum collection in Charm City). Double bonus- I parked right outside for free, and it only took me 15 minutes to drive home. Or take a cab from Union Sta. Whatever.

Unfortunately there were not enough chicks to start arm-wrasslin contests, although we did get an invite to do carbombs with strangers. Next time.

- - -

* More on this: so, it's been a long few summers spent talking big game about rehashing our old VC Andrews habits, and the D. finally was more action than talk and went out and bought the whole DAMN DOLLANGANGER SERIES for like, a buck fitty. Unfortunately, the books do not come with the snazzy die-cut paperback covers** anymore (shame.) Fortunately, I have a new bar trick: reciting from memory all novel series family trees ***. I'm starting work on it now, so the next time you see me, challenge me.

** I still say my theory holds true: the more color purple used in the cover design, the dirtier the book. See: Dawn.

*** "Fake marriage." So awesome.

Tuesday, September 19, 2006



- As if you haven't been reading all this anyways: Seriously?

- More.

- "And as for you chumps who spent the afternoon defending her... well, you're chumps." - Ann Althouse, nicest ol' gal on the block. Yes, defending her decision to wear a Gap sweater. Asshole.

- (Also more here)

- Also also, as previously mentioned, hello all you white people.


No one uses ITC Modern 216 enough.


TMN on DC parks


Arm wrestling tonight! Maybe.

related, i'm looking for someone to adopt me

I don't even know where to start with this one: my cousin is having her wedding reception at a LASER TAG / MOONBOUNCE place.

More as this story develops.

* * *

Advice requested: do I try and see Shearwater @ BC tonight after beer drinking, or do I got home and get sleep?

Monday, September 18, 2006

or cruxshadows

say you are me, and you are running the crazy out of your dog before your admittedly embarrassing CBS programs stories start, and you run by what appears to be some sort of Alexandria Trash Day, although it is clearly night. And there are the craziest paintings, (straight up high-school-sophomore-experimenting- with-an-Accutane/LSD/Type O Negative-cocktail) you've ever seen, propped against a light pole. And you take a photo of them with your camera phone.

so, how do you get pictures off your camera phone? i hate this fucking thing.

Also, #1: no joke, someone in my neighborhood has christmas trees up in the living room. Lit. Freals.

Also, #2: "Wife Swap" tonight? There is a set of parents who have "dropped out of society to raise their kids as pirates." I did not mishear this.

mr. baseball

i'm just recently not drunk (read: like, last few hours), and I no longer have to ride in a van that smells like bananas and dude ass.

cons: i'm sleepy and my feet may never be clean again.

* * *

My husband likes to come back from vacation and then immediately leave town again, so if you are my friend then I feel you should continue to assist me with the "sobriety-oppression" lifestyle I am cultivating. KLM, my finger is delerium-tremoning at you.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Believe me, I have more important things to do today than laugh and clap my hands

The G has hinted at it but now we can confirm it. The Pyggies are going on their longest vacation of the year, starting tomorrow. 4 whole fucking days. But this one is a doozy.

This weekend trip is based on a wedding in Ann Arbor on Saturday of an old high school friend. The “plan” to get to the wedding is founded on the fact that my other high school friend just turned 30 and wants to do something out of character and wildly complicated.

7 of us will rent a van tomorrow morning and drive to Cleveland where we will see the Indians play at the Jake. The next morning, after visiting to the Rock n Roll HOF, we continue to Detroit to see the Tigers at their new Stadium. After the game, we will RON in Ann Arbor. Saturday we have wedding shenanigans. Sunday morning, at some terrible time, we arise and travel to Pittsburgh to see the Pirates at their new home. Then back home to Fentytown.

This, potentially, will be a disaster. There has already been one crisis as those responsible for getting our rooms for tomorrow night did not try until today. I don’t know what rodeo or tire festival is going on in Cleveland on Thursday but that town is chock ‘o’ block. I think the hotel we were finally able to book is in Akron. Also, there maybe some personality tensions as we drive. And a husband and wife wearing matching, Parrot-head-based outfits. And terrible, incredibly bad music.

Mother fucker, this will be a calamity.

The site will probably be silent for a few days. But there will be plenty to share on our return. And maybe even during.

And I owe you some anyway. I’m using this public declaration as motivation to get off my ass and write. In the next two weeks, if there are no new entries on the following, please give me shit:
  • My attempt to understand gender specific Russian candy and the advertising campaign behind it
  • My trek to a tiny Texas town to secure very specific cola recipe
  • My cousin’s new baby’s name and the potentially terrible story behind its conception (the name, not the baby)
  • My email exchange with the city about an insect infestation’s effect on the crime emergency
  • My attempt to make a plaster replica of my hands
See you next week.

drew carey show jerkwads

1. Hey Cleveland Ohio, who knew you could be such a pain in the ass? Why did it take 7 people 3 hours on the internet to find a hotel room in Cleveland (well, "Brooklyn")? Cleveland, do you have something you'd like to share with us? Cleveland, is there like, a scrapbooking convention in town or something?

2. Also, thanks to all you who cared about my website troubles today and sent letters of support and love. And by "all you" I mean S., who graciously walked me through the appropriate threats to yell over the phoneline at my hosting company customer support people, and my husband, who IM'd me: "ur sites working again." The rest of you can go to hell.

3. Heh.

Have a nice weekend civilized world! Paint the town red for me!

oh, wait, mandolin!

In keeping with the PIAB tradition of driving next to cars with occupants doing crazy things (ask me sometime about the dude on 66 eating an entire sheet cake!):

This morning on the Memorial Bridge, the N and I witnessed a gray-hairdid lady in her 60s, a passenger in a Prius, serenading the driver and playing a mandolin.

potential, covered in ass prints


Please to be helping a poor young lass, destined to 16+ hours in a family Econovan listening to "Don't Stop Believing" or maybe "Piano Man" or if I'm lucky, reallllly lucky, and God showers down upon me a little joy during this time of bleakness, "I'm on Fire." What does one need to update her IPod with for maximum survivality?

Desparate in Fentyville

* * *

There is no way I am going to pull off a 10/2 HS show in Baltimore. BLOWS.

* * *

Joe Francis: fucking idiot.

* * *

In other news, my co. website is extremely fucked thanks to your truly, who knows jack shit about IT but winged her way through her interviews for this job with a sassy flip of hair/wrist and a cheerful "I can learn!" School's apparently in.

So, if I don't talk to anyone until next week, here's some advice: go to the DCist thing tomorrow night because that will probably be fun. Have a nice weekend. And for gods sake, try not to kill anything.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

Steady, Dack. Attack pattern delta. Go now!

Welcome back, me. Away to emergency plane rides and dank dungeons, home to delicious Galileo sammiches and destroyed treasures. Seriously, how is it possible to break that thing? It weighed much. The only thing I could compare it too would be someone being able to crush a bowling ball in their hands (or paws).

Anyblay, the G already mentioned the wedding trip last weekend to the cadet-filled hills of Lexington, VA and several of her personal story favs. Mine was the conversation with the 29-year-old groom’s new, LA residing, 14-year-old stepson:

Me: Did you have fun here in Virginia?
Disgruntled Youth: It’s okay. But this town isn’t very fun. There aren’t any arcades or bowling alleys.
Me (Hilarious adult): I think there are some nice boutiques downtown.
Future of Amurrca: I don’t know what that is.

I think it’s adorable that the shaggy, red-dyed young man thinks arcades and bowling alleys are where it’s at. Kids that age should be stealing PIN numbers with that red headed kid from Diff'rent Strokes and fleeing the robotic Governor on motorbike through the dried culverts of the Los Angeles River.


I assume the bug that lost his or her life here on the windshield on our way back from the wedding did so after pushing a smaller bug on a tricycle out of the way. As I stared at this windshield fluid-impervious smear for the entire 180 mile return trip I recalled a part of my childhood that I assume was universal to all 10 year old boys but now appears to be based on me being crazy.

My TESB snowspeeder was missing its harpoon and one canon shortly after it came into my possession. But one thing it did have was the smeared blood of Luke’s gunner smeared on the back canopy glass. Or that’s what my friend and I assumed based on the slight red imperfection in the plastic toy window. It could only really be seen if you stuck your finger past the seats and pressed the window, our pasty white nerd skin providing a good contrast. Our belief was that the snowspeeder was a replica of the moment in the movie after Dacks was killed but before it was crushed.

That’s what I was thinking about when this insect splattered almost in my face. I’d write on a ‘blog,’ “Hey fellas! This dead bug is just like that toy we had when we were kids. Wasn’t being a kid awesome? Doesn’t this define our male generation or something, something bloggingly inane?”

But it turns out there is no record of this red defect occurring on any one else’s snowspeeder. The internets has plenty of instruction about how to build your own speeder out of Legos, paper, or even life sized. (They should have sold car kits in the 80s were you could trick out your Fiero to look like a snowspeeder). But there’s nothing on the backseat blood. Not even on the sites that sell spare toy parts.

Where does that leave me? First, I’m the idiot who tried to use the micro function on his camera to take a picture of a dead bug while driving 70mph. Second, I’m about to buy a crappy 5 dollar vintage snowspeeder on Ebay to prove to myself that I am not a nutter.

the good mood report

- BD is a total asshole. Going along with the N's incapability to figure out irony - is it "ironic" that I was the one pushing for a dog, and that dog relishes in making my life difficult? And yet believes my husband actually walks on fucking water? Obviously some sort of Higher Power has a shitty sense of humor. Anyways, the N has been out of town the past few days, and the dog is on a holy rampage. There has been something very heavy and ornate broken, amazing really, since I didn't think the thing that was broken could be broken. How's that for detailed? Also, if you've never picked plastic trash bag remnants out of an animal's bowel movements, then you aren't living, internet.

- Re: all things family disentegration, my father has been upped to Percocet which acording to reports "takes the edge off a little a least(?!??!!)", and if you were considering sticking with an HMO for any reason, let's make a date to sit down and talk about it. I've got a list of all the reasons why you should reconsider. No really, a list. On a scroll. Written in calligraphy. Sometimes a trumpeter appears before I read from it. My mother has been calling me crying only once or twice a day about their upcoming nonrefundable European wedding anniversary trip. Good times.

- I leave for a road trip to Michigan on Thursday in a van full of rabid Billy Joel fans.

* * *

It's a good thing last weekend was so lovely, because thus far? Suck it, universe.

Here, this will make us all feel better: food on a stick, and I think I mentioned that the Afghan Whigs are reuniting, which means I can officially pretend to be 20 again.

Unrelated, is anyone out there a gardener/amateur landscaper? How willing are you to correspond with an individual who regularly kills most all plants via neglect, and who's dog eats the plastic ones, so we can't even go that hillbilly route? I need some low-maintenance planting advice. Thanks. L'chiam.

Monday, September 11, 2006


- whaaaaaat: HEAD! DANCE! NOW!

- hilarious: "About Last Kiss"

* * *

I wasn't going to say say a word re: the obvious, just because... well, it's the obvious. Today grosses me most everyone, to be sure, out for a variety of no-shit kind of reasons. I spent a long time this morning talking to a neighbor about the weather n dogs n crap, just kind of avoiding usual conversation. Finally she said "I dunno, I just lost my job. And my dad's birthday would have been today if he was still alive. But none of those reasons are why I'm sad, and it's weird. I think I'm going to do yardwork and just not really talk to anyone."

Every year today I think of a few people besides my bro- John Yamnicky; Juan Cruz; and a girl by the name of Maura.

One was a coworker at the time, someone I didn't really know but who once held a door open for me. John was a hard face to forget.

One is the dad of a college classmate, alive but badly injured, and I remember when she moved back to Va to be with him. Although we didn't keep in touch, I'm sure she's still here. I'm sure she'll never leave.

And one, the one I actually think about most often is Maura. Maura is my age exactly, and was the girlfriend of a guy who attended my college. I never met him, he was friends-of-friends-of-friends. After reading his obituary, he seemed very familiar, but that might have been because he reminded me of so many of my college friends and even my spouse - well-liked, smart, an easy smile, and apparently a lover of both guitar and Star Wars. According to his obituary, Matt had asked his family for advice on ring purchasing for his soon-to-be-fiancee, Maura. I had never heard Maura's name before, other than that obituary. Maura was a stranger.

I have never met Maura. I thought for a long time that I had no idea who she was. I did't know where she lived, or what she did for a living, or what she did for fun. I didn't know anything about her, other than that she was Matt's girlfriend, and never got to be Matt's wife. But every year, without fail, I thought of a total stranger named Maura because she just seemed, much like her boyfriend, someone I looked up only because we went to the same college, to be familiar.

And then I realized today that in my latest career, I actually do know Maura. I have talked to her several times. I just now made the connection.

And the world just got exceedingly small, kind of zoomed in and got fuzzy and black and odd, and I shut down my email for a little while, and stopped answering my phone.


Despite the aesthetic issues I have with the town website (so... much... script... font...), Lexington, Va is indeed v. beautiful. Sure sure, rolling hills of green and morning mist and coffee on the veranda and old friends and marital formal wear and wine and caterers who bring delicious crab dip, but I was mostly referring to cadets hitting on 19-year olds with popped collars at the Palms. I'm telling you, to witness that is to witness a freaking theatre production. A thing of great beauty. I expected some scrawny one to bust out with "You've Lost that Loving Feeling" at any moment.


- The wedding of my oldest college friend was surprising and even bordered on sweet, esp. for a person I never thought would get married. He is now a stepparent, to a teenager, which is the ultimate of freaking insanity and i kind of still can't talk about it without my pulse racing for the fear of our nation's future citizens being raised by.... J. There were about 40 people there, and I counted 3 of us who are friends with J, plus spouses. Everyone else was a relative. J apparently has 25 stepbrothers and stepsisters from all over the globe (Arkansas). Also, even in a tux he looks like a Colombian drug lord.

- The ceremony (detailing how DIFFICULT the bride and groom's lives are out in the big sick city of LA, which was a different approach to a marriage ceremony?) was held on top of a mountain at his parent's bed and breakfast, which rivals a movie set, so I've decided to quit my job and move down to the country and open a bed and breakfast clean rooms at someone elses bed and breakfast just so I can wake every morning to stare wistfully out at the rolling landscape below me as I drink a perfect cup of coffee and pet my well-behaved Golden Retriever. I suppose the dream ends when I have to scrub someone else's bodily fluids out of the shower/sink/toilet, but, you know. Sacrifices and such.

- Other celebration attendees included fellow Chandler Hall alumni AL and his pal Steve (or maybe his name was Ed?), having driven 12 hours from Ohio via Knoxville, which makes no sense but is keeping in perfect character. I hadn't seen AL since 1997, and I'm pretty sure no one knew who Steve/Ed? was, I sincerely believe he was nothing more than a driving partner. At one point AL was sitting next to me a started talking to himself, reading from a slip of paper he found inside a bag of jordan almonds:* "'Wishing J & S health, wealth, happiness, and a long life full of love.' See I don't really wish him wealth. Like, maybe moderate income." I'm pretty sure AL and Steve/Ed? spent that night in their car. I don't think they took me up on the brilliant suggestion to just walk around town knocking on dorm room doors til someone let them in.

- It is always hard to be around AL, because you are never really sure if you are fully in on the joke. He's kind of like a sedated Andy Kauffman, if a sedated Andy Kauffman was a music teacher in the midwest. Most of the time, he is making fun of you in his mind. No, really. You aren't overthinking that. And, he probably hates you.

- I wore a dress that was so revealing I hard a hard time making sure my tits weren't falling out every five minutes, so I'm pretty sure that's gonna be the topic of jokes between AL and J for at least a few years. Happy to provide source material, folks.

- And I'm pretty sure Steve/Ed? was on drugs.

- I am also pretty sure that J's mom was wasted by the end of the afternoon, as we saw her walking around the reception with a flyswatter in one hand and a glass of zinfandel in the other, aimlessly swinging at things. His parents are the most lovely people in the universe, so should you ever find yourself in Lexington, Va, do I have a setup for you, internet.

- In other news, I also learned that B, the only other college person in attendance besides AL and I, is the patrol sponsor at his local elementary school. Pretty great for some reason, I can't really pinpoint why.

Thus ends our wedding weekend. There is one less wedding on my Great 2006 Wedding Excel Spreadsheet now. We are reluctantly home. I have an exceptionally dirty homestead to attend to before hitting the road to Ann Arbor on Thursday.

* * *

Today, among other things, is my brother's birthday. Last night I traveled to my parents house. My mom made steaks, and bro's Most Glorious Girlfriend and I bonded over the fact that we like Discovery Health medical mystery shows, and then found out my mom still had "Worlds Smallest People: Primordial Dwarves" saved on Tivo, then proceeded to go into the basement to watch it and ignore the rest of the family for the entire night.

Happy birthday dude.

My dad is having an MRI today as well, which goes into a whole thing re: my father being bedridden recently, which is not nearly as great as it sounds.

* * *

In other news, someone told me the Gossip was at Black Cat this weekend. Meh!

Thu end.

* * *

(Not the end! AW REUNITE!?!?!?)

* jordan almonds are disgusting.

Friday, September 08, 2006

career path

Sometimes I spend my Friday afternoons printing off job applications to become a park ranger. There is an opening on the GW Parkway that is right up my alley, unfortunately, the pay cut would probably cripple my rabid t-shirt habit.

This is all far less worrisome then a few months ago, where I filled out applications to become a notary public, just because I thought owning a really cool seal in a velvet pouch might be fun. *

- - -

Related to all this spew, LJG quit her job today to go in to the moonshine business. So hip hip hooray for all being right in the world. If you want to, you can probably find me somewhere on the streets of yr nations cap tonigh; drinking in celebration, drinking in the love.

* (no.... no... yes.)

What if an alligator skin suitcase fell out of the overhead compartment and knocked him silly?

Dispatch from a skinny boat, 6 inches above the Patowmack.

The rains of last weekend finally made their way down to Washington, making the water swift this morning. They also brought all the concentrated filth of a summer full of McDonald’s wrappers, coke bottles, Styrofoam coolers, squirrel carcasses and rudder-destroying logs from MD, VA and WVA. There’s also a vile green film that is no doubt the cause of the gender identity issue the Post says the fish are having.

Poor little bass, having all these funny feelings about who they are, wearing sexually ambiguous clothes and eyeliner, getting pushed around by those bully snakeheads between class. They think they’re so tough because the can breath out of water and walk around on land and have heads the look like snakes. Wish my head looked like a snake.

But I’m sure whatever PFOA or DDT is in the water is no worse than the electromagnetic pulses or RF interference that my blackberry emits into me each time I get Viagra spam.* If it’s bad enough to screw with headphones/speakers/phone with every message that magically flies to my hip then it can’t be good for future little Pyggies. That sound is even imprinted on the Lupine Howl – Grave to Go To song I downloaded. And I’m not even sure that’s possible seeing this is digital media and not a reel-to-reel recording. But it’s there.

*Ohh! Is that irony? Viagra spam causing impotence? I’m so bad at coming up with examples. Like when someone said that Steve Irwin being killed by a stingray was ironic and I argued that it wasn’t but then couldn’t come up with a good example of something that was. What if he had survived the attack but got hit by a Corvette Stingray on the way to the hospital? How about if the crocodile skin shoes he was wearing gave him a blister and he died from the infection?

See? I’m really bad at it.

i'm a palatial wonder, myself

Man, being super-lazy and then watching your brilliant ideas come to fruition courtesy Englert?:

I was going to say that it's hard, but eh. It's not, really. Well done, PoW!

I can only imagine you saw my June '05 Craigslist ad looking for women to start such an organization, and instead of totally sleeping on the idea, you really ran with it. It's cool. I'm all about being a muse for the DC "scene." *

* (this is where you laugh.)

the most wonderful time of the year

Schlupdate: i think I have a decent Halloween costume planned out, and just in time. (I've been bumping around a a few different ideas; one, a leftover from last year that I never got around to building; two, "just some random MisShapes dude in leggings and eyeliner;" etc. Nothing great.)

Now, considering costume efforts last year were subpar at best, and parties pretty lame (sorry friends), I will need somewhere to make a grand entrance. Also, if I can pull off this one, it's rilly...square, so the crazier the party, the better. Photo composition would be pretty freaking awesome if I ended up at like, a vampire swingers burlesque show or something. If you know of one, hit a girl up.

Thursday, September 07, 2006

Nerf Nerf. Not for use with crotch

Attention blog, I apologize for ignoring you. You deserve better.

It’s still in the low 80’s right? We could still go down to the crick and go swimming. It’s still summer. Ish. Right?

Nay, says CVS. While I’ve long accepted that our local, crappy pharmacy serves as the nation’s unofficial calendar based solely on the junk they push on their seasonal aisle, I was surprised to see how fast they kicked summer to the curb. Usually the Halloween candy, 4th of July buntings, Easter Peeps, Thanksgiving candy turkeys, etc go through gradual clearance sales – 10%, 50%, 75% off. But summer was grabbed by the elbow and given a quick escort to bins for misfit squirt guns. It had to make way for fall colored scarecrows and what is labeled as on sale, “Back to School” candy. However, I go the manager to admit that it was actually the same price as the candy on the other aisles and the “back to school” stickers were extra ones from the Bratz notebook sale.

Also, they are now selling for - quick little math here - $1.49 the generic version of the SNL fake Nerf Crotch Rocket. On the show, it was a comical 30 seconds of Chris Farley hijinks. In reality it’s now a toy design based solely on the idea of shooting adults in the applebag with a foam missile. Or babies in the face. Both are worth one-fifty. But the G says no more crap in the house or the walls might fall outward. I say a crotch missile will keep looters at bay.

And speaking of People’s Drug, if you are ever asked for change by a young man outside any CVS in the Golden Triangle do not give it up. I’ve seen this one fellow, who claims to be homeless, coming out of a rather upscale restaurant AND at the airport getting ready to board the shuttle to NY. Even if he plays the crazy card by wearing Flava Flav clock and doing sit-ups in the street - in the snow - it’s some sort of scam. Don’t buy in.

Wednesday, September 06, 2006

trees falling

Here is the track list for "Marie Antoinette":

Disc one:

"Hong Kong Garden," Siouxsie and the Banshees
"Aphrodisiac," Bow Wow Wow
"What Ever Happened," the Strokes
"Pulling Our Weight," the Radio Dept.
"Ceremony," New Order
"Natural's Not in It," Gang Of Four
"I Want Candy" (Kevin Shields remix), Bow Wow Wow
"Kings of the Wild Frontier," Adam & the Ants
"Concerto in G," Antonio Vivaldi/Brian Reitzell
"The Melody of a Fallen Tree," Windsor For The Derby
"I Don't Like It Like This," the Radio Dept.
"Plainsong," the Cure

Disc two:

"Intro Versailles," Reitzell/Beggs
"Jynweythek Ylow," Aphex Twin
"Opus 17," Dustin O'Halloran
"Il Secondo Giorno," Air
"Keen on Boys," the Radio Dept.
"Opus 23," Dustin O'Halloran
"Les Baricades Misterieuses," Francois Couperin/Reitzell
"Fools Rush In" (Kevin Shields remix), Bow Wow Wow
"Avril 14th," Aphex Twin
"K. 213," Domenico Scarlatti/Reitzell
"Tommib Help Buss," Squarepusher
"Tristes Apprets," Jean Philippe Rameau/W. Christie
"Opus 36," Dustin O'Halloran
"All Cat's Are Grey," the Cure

and rhino humping

things we have been up to:

1. watching "house of cosbys"

2. losing wallets. it's official- after 3 or 4 days of halfhearted searching and difficult conversations with the Subway manager next door, my wallet is officially on the lam. No one's been using my credit cards or anything, which is nice of all you strangers out there, but still. This now requires a DMV trip, I will be creditless and ID-less for a few days, and unless I rummage around and find my passport to drown my sorrows at a local watering hole/pub/tavern/sports bar/music venue/suburban Chilis, I am up shit-cranky creek with no alcohol. Fuckity and stuff.

3. coming into work early. early enough that there aren't any overpriced downtown coffee shops open????? insert zombie sounds.

4. being concerned re: steve irwin's death. okay, well, not really concerned, because I did not know him, and I found his celebpersona flat annoying x eleventy. i am way more concerned that these dudes? still around, and something tells me they don't have any experience in conservation or like, science. Unless you consider science farting in a viper's face or whatever. *

5. watching baseball. the best I could sputter out last night was "they are playing like... like.... BABIES." oooooh, good one. Also, there was a seagull on the field for the last 2 innings. Usually I'd fear for the birds safety but since no one can hit, I didn't worry. (OOOOH BURN NATIONALS I TOLD YOU.)

* I laugh every time.

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


Held a very similar discussion on the drive home yesterday.

Oh and also a car-wide agreement that someone (anyone? hello?) could make a small fortune as a Mexican restaurant proprietar round these District parts. MEXICAN restaurant. Not Salvadoran, or Bolivian, not anything else masquerading. Mexican. The only place I can think of worth... thinking of... might be Guajillo, in Arlington? Unconfirmed if that's truly good Mexican grub, seeing as I have spent a sum total of 3-4 weeks of my life, maybe, in the American Southwest; and one short day-trip to Tijuana where I ate, err, nothing. (Maybe a granola bar, I was still drunk from San Diego and hadn't showered in 3 days.) Much past business travel to San Antonio only ever provided company meals on the Riverwalk, and I know that can't be authentic. Shit, youngs, I like Taco Bell nachos. So, I am the least informed person ever on this topic. Whats the best Mexican around here?

(Re: food, not Mexican: I think I might be in for a drive to Punjab Dhaba. When I actually worked near Loehmann's Plaza, I had no idea that was an option? Booo.)

christgau on a cracker/pazz and all that jop

I've been away, I didn't know. VV - RC: fired-dom.

Friday, September 01, 2006


seriously, whatever happened to Brent DiCrescenzo.

* * *

(PS, ha ha. kiss it, naysayers! The weather was beautiful, and only 2 of us actually died in riptides, so all in all I declare Labor Day '06 a success. To my boss who looked at me Friday afternoon with a sidesways stink-eye, all "have-you-lost-your-mind?" when I said we were still heading southward to partake in alcohol and sand? Sorry it rained here in the District all weekend, dude, but I was glad to hear your power came back on. eventually.)

How we love to lie around/Girls with tans of golden brown


Media overload! This song here, this vid here, this aKinsellapolothology here.


Weekend. We've kidnapped the editor of DCist. Back when we damn well feel like it.

and I almost failed high school chemistry

Probably my favorite link of the past month: "Haikus sought."

So far, "E. Coli in my Butt" is an obvious favorite. The phylogeny thing makes it even more difficult, though.

Apple tree go cart

Okay, you know what? This one just doesn't work. I suck at these things. But that won't stop me from harrassing my car mates while driving down to the hurricane-ravaged beach tonight. Science haikus are so the new license plate game.