A B O U T
Weblogs redistribute discursive power, but alas, my interests are far too bourgeois for me to ever embrace Marxism. I offer little more than self-absorbed narratives crafted into a distinctive prosaic style.L I N K S
apples & bananas
boys say the darndest things
brechi
capitulate now
culture strain
the district domestic
eggs & blue cheese
the fly bottle
freudian vacation
fugly
golden fiddle
hotdog water
hottest boys on ice
i probably hate you
jimbo
landladybing
low culture
mostly semantics
metrocurean
musical bloviator
nasserq
nemontemi
preppy hipster
raymi the minx
sarahlea
sharkbait
smurf
the superficial
toby
vulture droppings
whoabecca
whyihatedc
The most interesting thing you will ever read...
Brace yourself.
Is it odd to eat a pickle unaccompanied by a sandwich? I recall Anna Nicole Smith downing sole pickles during her short-lived show, but it turns out that she's hardly a standard for normalcy.
I went to the deli near my office, craving something salty, but not warm or heavy. A small salad comprised of onions, tomatoes, and a little bit of feta cheese, topped with pepper and balsamic vinegar would have been ideal, but I was out failing at trivia with Toby last night, not preparing snacks for the next day. Anyway, I ordered a pickle with my Diet Coke, and the lady at the register replied, "Just a pickle?"
"Yeah, just a pickle."
"Nothing else?"
"No, just the Diet Coke and pickle, sorry. I think it's on your menu?"A commotion in Korean ensued, and then her husband, in charge of preparing the food, came over to get a good look at me, left, and returned with a pickle. Weird. Maybe they are just worried about my sodium intake?
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Agatha Airlines
I had a near-death experience behind the steering yoke of a Cessna Skyhawk II (pictured above) this weekend. After a sharp turn left, a mile into the air, the flight instructor made the craft plunge downwards. I told him I was letting go of the controls and that our lives were both in his hands. I'd make an excellent pilot.
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The Master Racquet
I really want this racquet. Firstly, the really large head would significantly decrease my humiliating swing-and-miss average. Secondly, the Legend of Zelda's triforce would give me more power, as well as a special move in which I spin around giggling and hit the ball with even more power.
But could I beat Ganon in a singles match?
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'Blog Plug: The Foggy Monocle
A friend I've known since elementary school, when we were both academically severed from our peers due to superior intellect, sent me a link to my new favorite 'blog, The Foggy Monocle. It's very well written, culturally aware, and passively mean in a booze-addled and self-absorbed sort of way.
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Really, Gmail?
I just got this banner ad:
Cheap Tbilisi Flights - CheapEurope.com/Flights - Compare Flights To Tbilisi. Find The Cheapest Flights Online.And hey, they're even boldly offering roundtrip tickets!
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Adams Morgan: DC's Weekly Spring Break-Cancun
Apparently, being periodically woken up by drunk catfights in front of my apartment building didn't serve as a sufficient caveat, and last weekend I was reminded of why I've avoided weekend evenings on 18th Street in Adams Morgan - truly a chore, given that I live in the neighborhood. My arms are bruised from soccer, so I've been wearing outfits to conceal them; Saturday night's (a white and navy patterned skirt, a 3/4 length-sleeve collared shirt, and a pearl necklace) was certainly dowdy, but perhaps it would at least "send a message."
Twice, I was grabbed by interested parties whose aggressive "flirting" I ignored. I responded both times like a damsel in distress, crying "leave me alone!" and scurrying away. I'd like to think I'd be more menacing next time, but will instead ensure there's no "next time" by patronizing only particular bars, as listed below:
1. Perry's: The rooftop bar serves Pimm's, and you don't even have to set foot in the hellish corridor! But most importantly, it doesn't attract the trashy 18th St. crowd, so you can sit back and not keep the heavily tattooed street urchin in the corner of your eye, jumping every time he makes a sudden motion.
2. Bourbon: Located deep into the calamity, I'll be avoiding Bourbon on Friday and Saturday nights; however, on the last Thursday of every month, this bar collaborates with The Modernist Society and Politics and Prose, bringing in a best-selling author, a DJ, and amazing drink specials (think free Absolut drinks for an hour, not $7 gin and tonics, marked down from $12).
3. Adams Mill Bar & Grill: Good bartenders and clientele, $3 drafts of Sam Adams Summer Ale, and an outside patio with picnic tables just the right size for drinking games. On Sundays they offer some sort of special on crabs that doesn't apply to me and my bizarre diet.
4. LeftBank: Just because I've taken a fancy to spending my Sunday afternoons there, reading and enjoying a Summer Fizz - a white wine spritzer, ha. On weekends, it attracts a "Euro" type crowd, which is very hit or miss. Hit, being you strike up a conversation with some interesting and well-traveled people; miss, being you strike up a conversation with a Tyson's Corner cell phone salesman who shops at Men's Express and kind of looks the part, after you've downed a few Summer Fizzes.
5. Dan's Cafe: Finally, a book to judge by its cover! If not for the bouncer checking IDs, the dilapidated venue would seem as if it had been shut down, presumably by building/health inspectors. Upon entering, the aroma of conglomerated bodily wastes (you name it, you'll smell it!) greets the patron. The bartenders may be standoffish, but they're dealing with the sorts of low-lifes who get excited over a $10 combo that includes a minibottle of liquor, a mixer, and a glass. Hold the glass, please!
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American Teen (SPOILER ALERT)
I won't try and pretend I loved American Teen, just because it's a fusion of two genres I love (teen movies and documentaries); I did like it though. Reviews compare it to The Breakfast Club understandably. The movie follows a few teens from different cliques, who in the end, all end up at prom, graduate, and pursue their dreams rather effectively. They include:
1. The Hipster Girl You're Supposed to Identify With: She's likable, unique, and looks a lot like my friend Bexy. However, she's also incredibly emo and the angstiest of the bunch.
2. The Good-Guy Basketball Star: His father, a basketball star come professional Elvis impersonator, relives his glory days through him and comments that G-GBS will have to join the army if he doesn't get a scholarship, emphasizing that they're poor - in front of G-GBS's friends.
3. The Other Nice Jock: Best friends with the Good-Guy Basketball Star, he briefly dates the emo girl, but breaks up with her via text message after she painfully doesn't fit in at a popular kids party. Good call. Or good no call?
Kidding! That is mean; no one should do that.
4. The Pimply Weirdo: He wears only black (including denim), collects dead animals, and talks about how he really wants a girlfriend. Although in real life he would be deemed an anti-social threat by school administrators, he actually (unintentionally) provides the comedic relief in the movie.
5. The Rich, Popular Girl You're Supposed to Hate: She drives a new Mercedes, which certainly gets emphasized, but she also gets really good grades and has a great relationship with her parents. Good for her!
Anyway, see this movie, not for the tired coming-of-age theme, but for the haughty power mullets. Rural Midwesterners feather their bangs with a distinct intensity.
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This must be the place...
I shimmied out of my apartment last night, raspberry cheesecake and paired white port in hand, to this song, and appropriately, it was playing at Tweaks's townhouse when I arrived for an amazing dinner with amazing friends.
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Dearly Departing
Rusty and Terri are moving to Ohio, and leaving this weekend. Another friend left last month, and another is leaving next month. From my close college friends, only Toby and I remain in DC, like two saddened townies watching all of their classmates go off to college. Whatever.
Terri, I'll miss our mischievousness at parties, like our top secret power hour that earned a confused "what is wrong with you two?" from Rusty when we finished.
Rusty, I'll miss giggling inside after doing something really horrible to you, like abandoning you to the throes of a disgusting and sexually aggressive prostitute at what turned out to be a brothel. You deserved it for saying she was prettier than me. I'll also miss beating you at Street Fighter and teasing big, bloodthirsty dogs in cars with you.
At least I can still provide commentary on your cinematic criticisms of Lifetime movies.
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Play Money
I read Liar's Poker on the beach and wish I were a Wall Street hotshot now. I recognize my unfortunate lack of market savvy, so instead, through hours of dilly-dallying at work, I've cultivated a salubrious addiction to UpDown. My "trading strategy," a field in user profiles, is to "sell short;" I sell stock at a high price, betting that it'll fall, and then purchase it later at a lower price. In sum, as business owners and shareholders lose money, I profit.
I've made $21,000 in the past week, so I might get a top hat, cane, and monocle - and dance a little jig on someone else's dreams and hard work.
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Nothing would be finer than to be in Carolina...
Pretty soon, I'll be in either an obnoxiously colorful house or on the North Carolina beach adjacent to it. I lost focus of my work responsibilities last week, replacing them with daydreams about vacation in Midatlantic paradise (ha!). The tentative itinerary:
1. Spend days tanning and reading
I'm almost finished with The Bonfire of the Vanities, and want to squeeze in Thomas Love Peacock's short Nightmare Abbey prior to embarking on my beachside literary journey. I think it'll be either Tender is the Night or The Sun Also Rises. Or should I continue on the 80s Wall Street route and read Liar's Poker? What to do...2. Eat healthfully, drink economically
I'll be away from my normal environment (read Jumbo Slice and $8 Red Bull and Vodkas), giving me a clean(er) slate on habits and allowing me to form new, albeit temporary, ones. For the time being, I intend to live entirely on fresh fruits and vegetables and drink sangria with Fresca -- what I call a "Mexican timeshare," in honor of the preferred drink of the sleazy man trying to sell my parents a timeshare in Mexico, many many moons ago.3. Board game and documentary evenings
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I know, really nerdy... but so is blogging.
What Dogs Think (IV)
I promised Terri...
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Ricky waits outside while his friend runs into the store for a pack of cigarettes.
"Lunch Bucket" Democrats
I couldn't think of a more condescending phrase to describe lower-middle class, white Americans, but here's a list Toby and I put together anyway.
1. Willie Loman Democrats: After dropping out of school at 16 to work for the family's ball and bearing factory, most Willie Loman Democrats don't even understand the reference to Arthur Miller's Death of A Salesman. That doesn't mean that, like the story's eponymous protagonist, they don't fantasize about their own deaths.
2. Diner Democrats: If all-American, cheap greasy dining were a person, it'd be a lower-middle class white Democrat, and it would take its kids to waterparks in the summer. Think Billy Joel's "Allentown," or in essence, "New Jersey trash lite."
3. Fly-Over Democrats: A double entendre describing politicians' tendency to forget about, or "fly over," these people as well as these people's own tendency to live in fly-over areas. A triple entendre, even, if one considers their jobs have flown-over to Asia...
In Pennsylvania, these yokels are also known as "Venison-Jerky Democrats."
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Ihazamuxtape
Augh, and there will be no more of that lolcat speak ever again.
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Mitosis
What does mitosis, a process of cell division which results in the production of two daughter cells from a single parent cell, have to do with the above dress, you ask? Well, I ordered the dress online, in a size that usually runs perfect to a bit big in this label. Indeed, the area around the waist hangs a tad to baggily; on top, however, the material squeezes my chest, producing the illusion of two splitting zygotes (or fat eights).
With an obnoxious hat, it'd be such a cute spring and summer outfit -- until, of course, I inadvertently douse more than a few mint juleps onto it.
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Prices that won't mug you!
The latest word on the street? Target, pronounced "Tar-zhay"
I initially appreciated the irony of applying a French accent to a discount chain store, but seriously, stop it. Consider the following:
"The sniper successfully assassinated his tar-zhay." or "R.J. Reynolds's latest campaign tar-zhays teenagers."
Sounds ridiculous, huh? Toby suggests "Targhetto," a more appropriate choice given the retailer's Columbia Heights location.
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Beanbaggery
For just $380, you can own this "modern version of the beanbag chair" from Jaxx Sacs. Human trafficking is illegal (as far as I know), so I'll assume they mean the red one. (Jk!) Why so pricey, though? Jaxx Sacs competitor Fuf Chairs divulges, "The secret is in the 'patented polyurethane foam-filling'."
Modern, indeed!
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Unofficially Sponsored by Diane von Furstenberg, Miller Brewing Company, and Sally Hansen
Let the Gross Off begin! One lucky WIHDC reader can win a six-pack of beer!
I have a new dress that's classic, versatile, and incredibly flattering. In fact, the only thing that could ruin this (in black, and sigh, fatter) would be a horrible rash. It's made of wool, a material that has irritated my sensitive skin in the past, and the shoulders are baggy, threatening to occasionally allow a peek of any gross discolorations beneath. I'd hate to have a night on the town ruined by disgusted stares.
What to do? (Moisturize, I know...)
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Lookin' at you, Huckabee
I'll vote for whichever candidate promises a blizzard this evening so torrential that only the flames of Armageddon could melt its frost. I am assuming, of course, that this infernal conflagration would be more powerful than the industrial salt dusted over streets and sidewalks, forcing offices to stay open. If not, sorry Huck!
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I like this dress...
...but will it make me look like an over-sized baby? (Thank you, Terri, for the link!)
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Metroquette
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On the bus home from work, I sat down in the only available seat, located in the front area normally reserved for elderly passengers and those with disabilities. After the first stop, I moved to one of the newly cleared seats in the back to avoid the possible imbroglio of
1. A passenger deserving of my seat boards the bus, and notices me -- young and energetic, enthusiastic about leaving work.
2. I look at him/her, and blush, embarrassed as I acknowledge his/her evidently apparent age or disability.
3. I offer him/her my seat, moving to the back, where I should have been in the first place.
4. He/she feels sad and self-conscious about his/her age or disability. I've ruined a stranger's day. And during Lent! Guilt ensues; I've ruined my day as well.
Perched in the elevated seats at the back of the bus, I observed those below me and noticed someone staring back. The teary eyes of a middle-aged man in raggedy clothes begged for mercy from my harsh judgments. I had moved away from the seat next to him, and now worried he assumed it was provoked by disgust. Of course, my emptied seat was soon filled with the heavy plop of a lazy ass that belonged to neither a disabled nor elderly passenger.
'Tis the Season
A few weeks ago, a friend offered to split a bottle of Chilean cabernet franc with me. A South American varietal traditionally used in Bordeaux blends demanded a more unconventional accompaniment than the predictable duo cheese and baguette. I'm privy to decadence, so I thought,"why not chocolate?"
I went to Biagio Fine Chocolate, overly confident in my palate. A 99% cacao bar from Madagascar caught my attention, which caught the attention of the saleslady, who offered a 100% cacao bar instead that "was much less bitter." Confused, I surrendered my ego, and asked which bars she'd recommend with a Chilean cabernet franc. She had toured most of the vineyards in Chile, but nonetheless directed me to two customers -- wine importers interested in wine-chocolate pairings. They advised me well, and gave me information about their business, First Vine.
This weekend, Saturday 6-9 P.M and Sunday 3-6 P.M., they'll be at Biagio, 1904 18th Street, offering free wine-chocolate pairing tips and samples. Those with Valentines can buy gifts for their sweethearts, whereas others can simply gorge themselves in good taste.
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John McCain fan-fiction?
I think someone at The Washingtonian has a little crush! See his diary for how this story develops.
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Sickotic
On weekdays, I commute past the Medical Center metro stop, where the National Institutes of Health (NIH), are headquartered. Whenever I see someone getting off there, I assume this person is either a doctor of high caliber or someone with such a freakish disease that government scientists are conducting experiments on him. Then I worry - sympathizing that if I were so afflicted, being contagious would be the last of my selfish concerns.
I notice those cast aside as "definitely not doctors" never exhibit any outward symptoms, so if I fall ill, at least I'll suffer in silence. Perhaps they're sick in the my former landlady's sister way?
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The Official Drink of the Oxygen Network's "Bad Girls Club"?
Here's why:
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Lolchristianscientist
":)," replied the Mona Lisa.
Neither a transgendered self-portrait nor a rendition of whatever/whomever The DaVinci Code suggested (yay!), the Mona Lisa's subject has been identified by German scholars as Lisa Gherardini, the wife of a wealthy Florentine merchant.
I haven't been so excited by the news since the human quadrupeds of '06. Seriously, take a "paws" from your day to at least look at the photos.
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Griswold Style Family Trips
1. Whyoming? Mitt Romney won the primary for America's least populous state and home to Jackson Hole, one of my favorite vacation spots when I was younger and my parents paid for vacations. See how pretty?
In Big Bend National Park, on the Texas-Mexico border, we'd stay in cabins adjacent to an otherwise isolated lodge, somewhat reminiscent of the Overlook Hotel in The Shining (and aptly part of "Forever Resorts".) I was in high school the last time we traveled there, and probably most likely to "pull a Jack Torrance" on my loved ones.
2. Listen to beautifully melancholy Indie music, preferably bands named after my favorite Velvet Underground song.
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A Cult Classic
Last weekend Lauren and I saw a local theatrical company perform A Very Merry Unauthorized Children's Scientology Pageant, a musical featuring kids singing about the life of L. Ron Hubbard and Scientology. I know. Amazing. Dogs are probably the only beings more willingly cheerful about being exploited than children. See above.
Nevertheless, the children were hilarious and did a great job. If like me, you've toured the Scientology "Mothership" enough that the guide recognizes you, consider seeing this show playing through Sunday, January 13 at the D.C. Arts Center.
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Happy New Year!
Amid a day of shopping and beprettying myself for the evening, I lunched at Blue Duck Tavern yesterday, jotting down resolutions as I ate my "Roasted Chanterelles with Brussels Sprouts and Farm Greens with Heirloom Grits and Toasted Almonds," which was amazing probably because "farm greens" this time of year entail cabbage -- and my Polish roots make me particularly inclined towards this winter vegetable.
Among other things, I pledged to update more often and, at the request of Matthew Barney Gumble, fix my RSS feed (I have a year technically...). Anyway a doubly post-modern (self-aware of being an entry and an actualized resolution, but not much else) entry is a great way to start off the new year.
For now, lose yourself in this NYT article.
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All I Want For Christmas
There's a Lifetime movie I watched when I was about 12 years old that stuck with me. It involves a white Southern family and their black next-door neighbors. The families each have a little girl, and the youngsters become best-friends soon after meeting. Their parents even leave their doors open for the others to walk in-and-out as they please. The dramatic plot-twist? The white family belongs to the Ku Klux Klan. The black mother discovers this when one day the white daughter walks into their home wearing a Klan robe, complete with hood, and yells, "What you got on there? What you got on?"
Does anyone know the title of this movie? Terri, if you ever compile a list of the Top 10 Most Idiotic Lifetime Movies, please consider this one!
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Holiday cheer!
"Summer is only the unfulfilled promise of spring, a charlatan in place of the warm balmy nights I dream of in April. It's a sad season of life without growth," said Eleanor in F. Scott Fitzgerald's This Side of Paradise of my once-favorite season. Spring's gradually warming days foreshadow months of late late nights, outdoor barbeques, and frolicking in sundresses -- only to culminate in uncomfortably hot stickiness.
Perhaps my emotions are easily manipulated by cheery holiday music and the prospect of receiving gifts, but for the first time I love the winter -- and especially the hot toddies, Loro Piana cashmere, and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation that come with it. I know that it's still technically fall; I will probably be miserable in March.
Sigh.
Addendum: I have a commute-crush, who sort of looks like Russell "Rusty" Griswold in National Lampoon's European Vacation, but less menacing. From eavesdropping on a phone conversation, I know he enjoys skeet-shooting, which I am dying to do.
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Let's Plymouth Rock 'n' roll!
I wonder how corny the inevitable, annual Thanksgiving event is. In Bucks County, PA, where I'll be for Thanksgiving, residents look forward to Christmas. The town of Washington Crossing puts on an annual show on Christmas Day that reenacts George Washington's famous crossing of the Delaware River.
I went once with my brother. How was it? A few people dressed their dogs in Revolutionary War officer uniforms, including 3-point hats. That's all I've ever wanted for Christmas.
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Casual Dining Update
The chef at Romano's Macaroni Grille recommends an Ecco Domani Merlot (year unspecified) with the mozzarella sticks.
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Casual Dining Blog?
Applebee's is the kind of place where, if forced to go, I'd order off the menu and ask for a grilled cheese with tomato, which I'm sure would be served with slimy American cheese. Still, given the rising popularity of food blogs, I think it'd be funny to start one devoted to going to bad, chain restaurants (e.g. The Olive Garden, Ruby Tuesdays, but NOT Shoney's, which I imagine is Paula Deen's favorite and thus rocks). I imagine something like:
I decided to try the XXX, located in the parking lot of the Green Briar Shopping Center, for dinner last Friday evening. The hostess, a junior at the local public high school, greeted us with a smile and informed us that there was a 45 minute wait, handing me a vibrating pager. Hungry and excited, my dining partner and I passed the time at the Marshall's store located in the strip of shops nearby. The pager beeped, warning me that I was out of range. We returned to the pager's range just in the nick of time for it erupt in my pocket. The red lights surrounding its periphery danced thedanceelectric slide of realized anticipation!We started the meal with the Cheezy Spin Dip™, served with Tositos™ corn chips. The dish consisted of spinach greens and the occasional chunk of artichoke floating in melted cheese. It had a salty, cheesy flavor that finely complemented the saltiness of the Tositos™ corn chips, and had us reaching for sips of our drinks (I had a beer on draft, she a Snickers Bartini™).
For our entrees, I ordered the Sizzlin' Chicken Fajitas™ --- and boy, was I impressed! First off, the presentation was incredible and true to the label, "sizzling." The waitress rushed it over, holding the iron skillet with a pot holder. I noticed patrons at surrounding tables turn their heads curiously. It had strips of chicken, marinaded in XXX"s signature TexMex Chipotle™ sauce, surrounded by green peppers and onions, and served with tortillas. My dining partner ordered the Jack Daniels Salmon™, which looked attractive, so I asked for a bite. Though the salmon was clearly overcooked and fell apart a bit, the marinade was excellent, sweet with a subtle hint of whiskey. She had a side of baked potato which I didn't try, but she mentioned that it tasted like "a reheated piece of sh*t."
My date didn't order dessert, but I finished the meal with a triple chocolate brownie sundae. (What can I say? I have a sweet tooth!) The brownie was fudgey and topped with vanilla ice cream and hot fudge sauce. The brownie absorbed the melted ice cream, creating a delicious, indulgent mush. I'd definitely go back again!
Or something like that. I don't know why I wrote in a male voice. A divorcee taking her kid out and analyzing the children's menu would have been just as funny, as in "The chicken fingers were crispy and served with honey mustard for dipping and a healthy side of apple sauce" or an impressed, "We were even allowed to keep the Spongebob™ soda cup!"
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Old Dirty Bastard (11/15/1968 - 11/13/2004)
Goodbye, Russell Jones
Or ODB to those
Who never knew you
You were Brooklyn's softest rose
You crawled out of the ghetto
From which you hailed
And made a name for yourself
Between the times when you were jailedAnd it seems to me you lived your life like a candle in the wind
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Often smiling your customized-gold-grill bucktooth grin
And your rhymes have been remembered for innovative skill
Your candle burned out long before your legend ever will
Atlas Shrugged, A Review by The Invisible Hand
I saw a few copies of Ayn Rand's classic in the bargain bin at a local bookstore. But that doesn't mean women shouldn't write books. I recently finished Raymi's book. Read it; it's impressive and wonderful.
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Whine
Through a legal loophole, American shampagne can be marketed as champagne, which is, by tradition, produced exclusively in the epynomous French province. Perhaps I'm just incredibly pedantic, but this annoys me. I've signed a petition to stop this nonsense. Do so as well, if you fancy!
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Frightened of this thing that I've become...
Apparently jukeboxes can be programmed to prevent someone from playing the same song twice in a row. Alas, 4 minutes and 58 seconds isn't enough time for me to clear up the dance floor so that the whole bar can appreciate my drunken rendition of Toto's Africa.
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Dr. W.B. Blog, PhD, MD
Perhaps therapists exist largely to prevent individuals from committing the discourtesy of constantly rambling about their romantic tribulations or petty quarrels to friends and loved ones. It's far less solipsistic than a crappy blog;in fact, it's like paying someone to read your crappy blog and even leave comments. Plus, you don't even have to covertly type at work!
Or just call me after work.
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