Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Come, Al Ye Followers

Check out this email I got tonight!!!




Wait, wait, maybe we should take a closer look:



Amazinggggg. Aso, I probably shouldn't heed that last line & follow Jesus Christ, right? I don't know if, in good Jewish conscience, I can pull that off. Even on Twitter. Thoughts?

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Sole Decision

For most ladies, warm weather means a few things: namely, sundresses & sandals. I own approximately two sundresses, one of which I wore today, & I don't particularly like sandals because I tend to have a bad habit of touching my feet, which is, you know, gross, & sandals make it easier for me to indulge in said sick habit. The benefit of not wearing sandals much is that I tend not to develop the "It's summer!" blisters that come with breaking out the first round of flip-flops.

Today, I wore the aforementioned sundress. And instead of sandals, I wore close-toed black flats with a black bow. Oh, wait, instead of telling you, I could just show you:


Yeah, those. Black flats from Old Navy, a store certainly renowned for its comfortable & supportive footwear.

I've owned these suckers for approximately EVER, & I'll admit that a close friend once instructed - nay, ordered - me to throw them away because they sometimes, um, smell a little bit. Anyway, I found 'em buried in my closet this a.m., which was a pleasant surprise because I thought I'd acquiesced my friend's demand.

And tonight, I decided to walk home from work. One mile into it, it was like I'd just run a marathon in a pair of slippers. I grabbed dinner, hopped a bus & hobbled home to nurse my wounded soles.
Lest I think I was safe from the dreaded summer sandal massacre, I present you with photographic evidence to the contrary:






OK, OK, fine. They don't look like any major battle wounds. But I promise you, my feet are screaming at me. I think I might be in less pain if I'd just walked a mile in actual slippers.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Some Days Are Like That, Even In Australia the District.

I did something foolish today - I attempted to take a vacation day.

"Foolish?" I can hear you thinking. "That sounds brilliant! And lovely!" And in most cases, dear blogosphere friends, you'd be correct. But you - or most of you, at least - do not work in my office (hi, coworkers!) or, more importantly, have my luck.

My day went as follows:
  • 10:00 a.m.: Text from coworker/close friend informs me that our boss plans on being arrested for a peaceful protest outside the Sudanese embassy this afternoon. A good reason to be called into work, for sure, but try telling me that upon waking.

  • Much back & forth ensues regarding whether I actually need to come in on my day off, regardless of my boss' decision to get arrested. Thankfully, the ultimate decision is "no," but that doesn't mean I quit checking my email. Thanks, iPhone. What I wanted most out of life was to be perpetually connected.

  • I show up an hour & a half early for a 2:00 physical therapy appointment that I thought was at 1:00. I kill time by walking five blocks to Robek's for a pumpkin smoothie; I return to PT soaked in sweat from 90-degree weather. Dear denim: My swamp-ass & I hate you.

  • I try to hitch a quick redline train to Chinatown for a solo viewing of "17 Again," which is not embarrassing at all. At Metro Center, the door on my train car refuses to close, thus prompting the conductor to unload the entire train. We wait at least 10 minutes before the omnicient voice of the Metro gods instructs all displaced Glenmont-waiting folks to head to the Shady Grove side of the tracks to catch out train. As soon as we do, a train arrives on the Glenmont side, prompting a stranger-supported rebellion (consisting only of mutual bitchery) in protest of the Metro Center WMATA employees' trickery tactics; we suspect we were sheparded to the other side of the tracks so we wouldn't bum-rush the first train to arrive following the breakdown. Bastards. They win; we catch the next train out. Total time from Farragut North to Chinatown: 36 minutes.

  • I arrive at the movie theatre at 3:19 for a show that began at 2:45. Realizing the futility of my initial plan, I instead purchase a ticket to "Obsessed," having missed a mere six minutes. I proceed to check my email throughout the entire film. When I'm not working, I'm suffering through watching Ali Larter sexually assault & mentally abuse Beyonce's character's very fine husband. In other words, I'm suffering either way.

  • Later, I am the first person to arrive at Lauriol Plaza for dinner with my BFFs, a restaurant that will only seat full parties. As everyone in my party indicates via text that they've yet to leave their respective offices, I stand alone in a Lauriol corner for approximately 20 minutes awaiting their arrival in uncomfortable sandals. Welcome, summer.

  • Bonus points: During dinner, my mom calls to report a gas leak at our Ohio home.
High points: Beyonce's character's aforementioned very fine husband; the ultrasound I got at PT (on my back; who knew those existed for the unknocked-up?); the two pitchers of swirly frozen maragaritas my friends & I imbibed throughout the course of dinner; the multiple fashion emergencies I witnessed throughout this 90-degree day.

In other words, thank God for small favors & large pitchers.

Sunday, April 26, 2009

Feline HIV. Believe it.

On lighter note, my favorite graffiti: It exists throughout the city, though no one appears to be quite sure why. This gem came from a construction awning somewhere in Dupont, though the exact same phrase is scrawled in the Big Hunt's bathroom.



Dear CAT AIDS writer: Who are you & why do you do the things you do? If you would respond to this post, it would probably be the best day of my life.

Tomorrow, I shall have more graffiti for you. Tonight, I am too tired to post.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Rumspringa! The Amish Flock Capitol Hill.

It was Amish Day on Capitol Hill!

I wish I knew what they were there for, & I REALLY wish I had better photos. But if you squint & use your imagination, you can make out some Amish dudes in Amish hats wearing Amish suspenders making their way into the Russell Senate Office Building this afternoon, where a few of their comrades were already wandering the halls.



True story: When I was a little girl, my parents took me on a train ride through what we refer to as "Amish country," & the Amish people we passed often waved to train passengers on our way by. As a result, I spent at least a chunk of my childhood longing to be Amish, primarily because I was intrigued by the idea of quilting bees & one-room schoolhouses. OK, & maple sugar candy.

Now that I think of it, today's Amish lobbyists should've brought maple sugar candy with them to give as gifts to the Hill staff. I can think of no better way to convince someone to do what you want than to give them maple sugar candy, which is, I believe, a gift from some unidentified God of Rumspringa above, or something.

Yum.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Another Lazy-But-Amusing Photo Montage...

Even when Easter's over, there are reminders of the joy (?!) of that holiday I don't celebrate lurking throughout the city. Turns out Peeps exist in places other than the CVS sale shelf! No matter my feelings on Easter, I gotta say that this one-eared pink bunny makes me pretty darn happy.


Why on earth would a father/son duo dressed in full hunters' camo be chilling at Five Guys? There's not a deer for days in this city, yet these guys drove in from their venison-snagging excursion in rural Virginia to grab a hot dog in Dupont?


On second thought, camo is still a better choice than suits worn with fishnets. Honey, life is not
Rocky Horror.


On the list of things that you, my dear readers, absolutely do not give a flying hoot about, I had the best salad on the planet the other day from Sweet Green, the new leafy greens joint in Dupont. I tweeted this photo during Pesach & a friend said, "You're being such a good Jew!" You might note, however, that there's salami in this salad, so... decide for yourself.


Howdy, y'all! Who doesn't appreciate cowboy-oriented Korean cuisine? Talk about a niche market...


And finally, Dupont's Lambda Rising takes on the online bookselling giant following the now-infamous #amazonfail fiasco of Easter Sunday 2009. How would Jesus feel about your discrimination, Amazon?

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

"Dear Peanut-Eating Hipster at the Dupont Five Guys"

If you want to know the truth, I've been slacking on blogging because I've been busy getting - gasp! - healthy. That's right, I started seeing a physical therapist here in D.C. who's given me a bunch of back exercises to do to help me manage my pain, & the time I spend doing them in the evening is the time I typically spend blogging. So you'll forgive me if I don't have the hang of multi-tasking or dividing my time well yet, but I'll try a little harder to balance it all. And now, an open letter to the douchebag I encountered at Five Guys this evening:

Dear Peanut-Eating Hipster at the Dupont Five Guys:

(a.k.a. this guy:
)

You don't know me. I don't know you. It's safe to say we will probably never meet. But I hated you a little bit tonight. I hated you so much, in fact, that I wish you would somehow find this blog post & know what a jerk you were being circa 7:22 p.m. this evening. What was your offense, you ask? Well, I'll tell you, sir: dropping your scraggly, dirty peanut shells all over the floor.

I know Five Guys isn't the classiest of establishments, but this is not Texas Roadhouse, bucko. That's why they provide you with those handy little cardboard dishes to put your shells in. In fact, I know you knew those cardboard dishes existed because the polite pal you were with was disposing of his shells into one. But you? You just carried on, cracking & dropping & cracking & dropping, never stopping to take a look around you to notice that you were the only one in the entire joint dirtying up the semi-clean tiles with your peanut residue.

Why am I so angry, you want to know? Well, I can't answer that. I tried to ignore you, tried to wait in peace for my grilled cheese, but your rudeness - and your inability to recognize your own rudeness - drove me up a wall. I suppose it didn't help that you were chattering up a storm about Ivy League law schools as you committed your peanut misdemeanor, babbling on like so many privileged academics about LSAT this & admissions that, subconsciously assuming someone lesser - without a law degree, obviously! - would clean up your mess.

OK, buddy, I'm done. You are a jerk, & I am a passive-aggressive nitpicker, & we can leave it at that. But next time, if nothing else, consider the potential health hazards of your actions. Think I'm kidding? OK, I am. But I bet this lady isn't laughing.

Yours truly,
Suburban Sweetheart
(a.k.a. Order #52, the Grilled Cheese Girl with the iPhone)


Tuesday, April 7, 2009

Idol Chatter, Week II

I promise not to make a habit of this, but I can't resist chronicling all the word vomit that American Idol induces. This week's song theme was "tunes from the year the contestants were born." On your marks, get set....
  • I cannot stand by Danny Gokey as he massacres an '80s classic. I hope somebody will be standing by me when I pass out as a result of adult contemporary overload.
  • Kris sounds like he's got a mouthful of rocks under that trash 'stache. And based on this song, whoever she is, all she wants to do is dance to someone else's song.
  • "Indulgent" is Simon's new word du season. It's also a favorite of Chef Gordon Ramsay. Quick, maybe the Brits are onto some new vocab trend.
  • Dear Ryan Seacrest: There's a reason you're a host & not a judge. Think of yourself as a wax statue - all you have to do is look shiny & well-coiffed! Do not speak unless it's scripted; your critiques are even more unwanted than Paula's, which is really saying something.
  • Lil Rounds look like a hooker from the '80s. And are her shoes made of recycled prom tiaras & Paula's old earrings? Ain't no Whitney, sista.
  • I want to have light brown babies with Anoop. Hopefully they'll have my eyebrows, though.
  • I also want for Anoop to sing this song to me. In my bed.
  • Scott's McIntyre's hair has gotten marginally better while his voice has gotten exponentially worse.
  • I've just stopped supporting affirmative action. Can we send the blind kid home now, please? It's past time.
  • Based on her childhood photograph, Allison Iraheta was a Pocahontas/Rapunzel hybrid in her youth.
  • These days, however, if Ronald McDonald were 16 years old & emphysemic, his name would be Allison Iraheta.
  • As skeezy as Matt Giraud is, I would totally be his parttime lover based on his snazzy rendition of this Stevie Wonder tune.
  • Ouch. Nothing like a little falsetto scat combo to make a girl go back on her word.
  • Randy says Matt was "one of the best of the night," which, at this point, isn't saying much.
  • I think Adam Lambert is older than his mother. Say whaaaat?
  • "I decided that I wanted to dress like a grown up," Adam Lambert says of his childhood fashion sense. Hey, kids! Apparently grown ups dress like Hitler!
  • Adam looks looks drastically better without the eyeliner & the creepy blue lighting. Like your average, swanky gay man instead of a Tim Burton character with a Michael Jackson twist.
  • Do I even need to watch this show for the next seven weeks? The outcome is clear. Wake me when Adam Lambert is crowned American Idol.

The District Does the Equality Thing... Almost!

I rarely get too political on this blog, which is interesting, I suppose, for a blog about the District, where politics abound. And actually, my use of the word “abound” is probably an understatement, the equivalent of saying that oxygen is “important” for breathing. But I keep this blog in part because I’m not a particularly political person, a true rarity in this city. While it’s true that I hold a political job, & I have primarily political friends, & I care a great deal about politics, I am not & have never been a politico in the Washingtonian sense of the word.

But today, I’m bringing politics to the table. Why? Because today, my adopted hometown of Washington, D.C. joined New York state in recognizing same-sex marriages performed in other states, granting legally married same-sex couples all the D.C. benefits that opposite-sex married couples receive. It’s not perfect, sure, but it’s a step – a damn good one.

This victorious vote from the D.C. Council comes the same day that the Vermont state legislature voted to override Gov. Jim Douglas’ veto of a bill that would legalize same-sex marriage in the state – quite a triumph, to be sure. It also comes the same day that Iowa Senate Majority Leader Mike Gronstal publicly refused to block the state’s Supreme Court ruling legalizing same-sex marriage there (a decision that came down last week).

Every time I think about these victories for marriage equality – these civil rights victories, because that’s what they are – I literally come to tears, the way I sometimes do when I see photos of America’s first family – America’s first African-American family. I posted a Facebook status today that expressed my happiness at today’s wins, & more than 10 people have already “liked” it; my heart warms a little more every time I get a new Facebook alert telling me someone else I know & love is on the side of equality.

Sen. Gronstal got it right when he quoted his 20-year-old daughter today, saying, “You guys don’t understand. You’ve already lost. My generation doesn’t care [about banning same-sex marriage].” And then he said, “I see a bunch of people that merely want to profess their love for each other, and want state law to recognize that. Is that so wrong? I don’t think that’s so wrong. As a matter of fact, last Friday night, I hugged my wife. You know, I’ve been married for 37 years. I hugged my wife. I felt like our love was just a little more meaningful last Friday night because thousands of other Iowa citizens could hug each other and have the state recognize their love for each other.”

Amen, Sen. Gronstal. And thanks, Iowa/Vermont/DC. Baby steps, America – we’ll get there.

Monday, April 6, 2009

Miscellany: Breakfast, Bounty, Bacon & Bad Footwear

Biggest. Donut. Ever. I mean it. In case you think this is just sort of on the large side, please take note of how dinky my large-sized drink looks next to it. WHO EATS THIS MUCH DONUT? To be fair, it was being sold at Bagels, Etc., also known (to me) as "Mandarin Bagel," where I doubt many pasty connoisseurs gather for donut tastings, but... wow. I mean, that's all. Wow. This donut is bigger than my skull.


Things that are awkward to carry around Dupont:


I ventured to Bethesda's Pancake House this weekend with a friend, even though I dislike pancakes. When I found out they served waffles, the deal was sealed - & when we got there, I discovered that they also serve a bacon waffle. Remember the chocolate-covered bacon bar? Well, my bacon curiosity carried over into Saturdays breakfast, compelling me to order aforementioned bacon waffle. And while it was fairly tasty, it was absolutely weird. Observe:




Just because you can't walk doesn't mean you shouldn't also wear publicly appropriate footwear; even if you're not mobile, I can still see your feet, & house slippers - especially the animal-adorned kind - are not, have never been & will probably never be couture sole apparel. This guy, photographed at Adams Mill Bar & Grill in Adams Morgan, is totally quacked up.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Worshipping False Idols

I live-blogged tonight's American Idol results show, which I realize is unrelated to either Ohio or the District but is entirely related to the ways in which I unwind & entertain myself. Oh, & the ways that I keep my "being judgmental" skills sharp:
  • Paula calls Idol “the world’s greatest platform.” Paula’s also wearing three inches of purple eyeshadow, so her opinions don’t hold much weight.
  • Simon says Anoop, Matt and Megan are in trouble. Anoop looks appropriately nervous; Megan smiles & waves like an oblivious Old Navy mannequin.
  • This week’s Ford commercial features Kris and Matt rapping. And a lot of Adam’s eyeliner.
  • I wonder if the Idol medley-makers will be relieved when Scott is kicked off so they can quit doing medleys that involve keyboard riffs and instead do ones that involve actual choreography.
  • Last night, the judges issued desperate pleas to Allison Iraheta to stop looking like a suicidal streetwalker and instead start resembling an average American teenager. Her stylists, it seems, have chosen to completely ignore those appeals, so she again looks like a hot mess of a Hot Topic billboard.
  • I have just stopped believing. Sorry, Journey.
  • Ryan says someone has to “sing for their life” tonight, which doesn’t feel dramatic at all. Singing is the new waterboarding.
  • Adam just mentioned The Fresh Prince of Bellaire, which aired before Allison Iraheta was born.
  • If Megan Joy Corkrey isn’t kicked off tonight, I promise to stab my eardrums out before next week’s show.
  • Lil Rounds is wearing half a ‘90s prom dress: a white Polyester top trimmed in sequins atop white pants. She looks like a Vegas snowman.
  • David Cook’s performance can only be described as whatever the opposite of “climactic” is. And while you’re looking up your antonyms, tells me what the opposite of “in tune” is, too.
  • Megan Joy (sorry, didn’t realize she’d dropped her last name…) is in the bottom three. There’s hope for my eardrums yet.
  • I refuse to comment on Megan Joy’s flapping/cawing combination walk.
  • Scott & Anoop await their fates: Battle of the minorities!
  • Brown kid loses. No part of me looks forward to watching Scott – or his new “Teen Wolf” hair – perform again next week.
  • I love Lady GaGa, but tonight she’s apparently stolen her outfit from a circus trapeze artist & her wig from Britney’s baldness days. But even her fashion disasters can’t distract from her vocal disaster – she sounds like a little bit like Adele, but underwater & on ecstasy.
  • For the love of God, please bring back David Cook.
  • Cut. Alison Iraheta is not clapping for Lady Gaga. For once, I’m agreeing with her judgment.
  • I still think it’s vicious that Idol makes the losers sing the song they’re kicked off with. Some swan song.
  • Megan Joy Corkrey, my eardrums thank you for your departure. Caw, caw!
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