Rave Review?

Thursday, July 31, 2008

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This is posted in large print & framed outside Dino, a fairly swanky Cleveland Park restaurant, but I've got to wonder... is this really the sort of review they want to showcase???

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"Sorry, You're Just Not My Thaip."

Monday, July 28, 2008

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My favorite D.C. dining location is dead.

OK, that's not technically true: Five Sala Thais still exist throughout the District. But my favorite, the one that taught me to appreciate Thai food & cultivated in me a certain level of embarrassment when its staff began to remember my name & order, has officially kicked the bucket. Yes, the Uptown Sala Thai is now Paragon Thai, a more expensive version of, well, the exact same thing. My beloved Chicken Ka Prow is now a whopping $1.00 more, and the delivery fee has been upped by an unacceptable three bones.

Needless to say, I am devastated.

I am, however, wildly entertained by the grand opening banner running across Paragon Thai's newly launched Web site. Observe the screen shot below:

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A Middle-Earth Moment

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Bilbo Baggins lives -- in D.C.!!!

One of my life's greatest regrets is that I was unable to capture photographic evidence of this man's hobbit-like face.
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WMATA Five-Oh: Underground Edition

Sunday, July 27, 2008

I don't know whether I can describe last night's late-night goings-on any better than my dear friend Rebecca, who eloquently & verbosely articulated on her blog, Blake Take Two, the sight we saw a mere 24 hoursish ago -- but, of course, I shall try.

METRO ARRESTS! That's right, as we descended the escalator into the Dupont Circle Metro Station, a cop rushed past us to give a pat-down & a handcuffing to a disgruntled-looking young criminal of some sort. Our curiosity, of course, was piqued, but we carried on. Please forgive the lighting and haziness of the pic that follows, but I was a bit concerned about the legality of photographing an arrest & therefore made no second attempt when the first came out looking like the
equivalent of an ultrasound, where I'm like, "There's a hand!" and you're like, "That looks like a pixelated chicken." Basically, it's an onlooker (with possible involvement) watching as the copper cuffs our perp:

Imagine our excitement in discovering that Arrest Numero Uno was only 50% of the excitement. Two more of D.C.'s finest were making their way to the train platform, where they were greeted with wild applause from onlookers. Sadly, it was unclear what had gone down prior to our arrival &, therefore, what the applause was for, but we assume the innocent Metro-waiting bystanders were so exasperated by whatever crime was occurring that their applause was an expression of sheer relief at the five-ohs' arrival.

I snapped the following photo of a ring of cops surrounding the apparent suspect, whom I overheard yelling, "I was just defendin' myself!" which leads me to to believe the whole thing was just some teenage tussle.
Either way, you know I love me some public transportation exhilaration!!!
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Accidental Accessorizing

Saturday, July 26, 2008

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Unfortunately, my covert cellular photography skills got away from me on this one, but you'll get the gist.

Although I attempt not to blog at the expense of others, I couldn't let this one slide -- bird crap allll down the back of this bus rider's man's button-up. I wanted to say something to him, but "Hey, there's shit on your shirt" didn't exactly seem like the Good Samaritan line I was going for. And I didn't want to embarrass him, although I suppose it's already embarrassing to have avian excrement down your back. Then again, what was he going to do? Take his shirt off & spit-clean it right there on the bus? No, he was better off not knowing, so I'm a Good Samaritan after all.

And who am I kidding? "Blogging at the expense of others" is what I'm all about.
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The Daytime Hooker Look

Friday, July 25, 2008

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Listen, I like a little black dress as much as the next classy lady, but come on -- white patent heels AND a matching bag at 4 p.m. on a Wednesday???

Sadly, what was cut out of this picture was the best part: this girls' roots -- which matched her dress -- & the crazy, oversized, white faux flower that dominated her left boob. You can juuust see it poking over her left shoulder. Priceless.
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Sole Decision

Even in the big city -- or maybe I should say ESPECIALLY in the big city -- such footwear is NEVER, EVER acceptable in public.

In other shoes news, a note to the woman who clomped down the escalator to the Dupont Circle Metro this afternoon: If your descent into public transportation sounds like a goddamn horse race, you should probably rethink your footwear choices.

(I should note that the girl in this picture wearing the green flats is to be commended for her uber-cute, enviable choice of shoes. Very acceptable.)

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The Curse of the 5th-Floor Corridor

Thursday, July 24, 2008

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Today I happened upon Greg, my cop neighbor on the other side. I only know Greg because our apartment door open into one another's, & if we both try to leave at the same time, our doors lock into place & we get stuck in our residences. It happened once, sort of, but I live in fear of the second go-round, which I am quite sure will eventually occur.

Anyway, I couldn't help but notice the massive blue cast overwhelming Greg's right hand. What is it about this place???
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Saturday, July 19, 2008

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I'd wondered for weeks, but now it's official. Alvin & Anita, also known as The Neighbors Behind My Bruised Hand, have MOVED OUT!!! They sure weren't here very long. Not that I'm complaining -- this mean I no longer have to tiptoe around the building hoping not to run into the randy couple.

The new tenant is named Max, & he seems very nice. If nothing else, he says his bedroom is on the other side of the apartment (a whole room & a half away from mine!) & he promises not to have ridiculously loud sex.

Cheers to no more contused hand bones.
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Bar-B-quin' with my HONEY

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

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As a follow-up to this post, I am somewhat ashamed to say that I caved today (i.e. got really hungry) & actually ate the Rap Snacks.

Even more shameful?
They tasted WONDERFUL.
Somebody tell Lil Romeo that I'm a believer.
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Chickening Out on a Hometown Hero

I could've met former astronaut & Ohio Senator John Glenn yesterday, had I not been A) too impatient to wait for the crowd around him to thin, & B) too wussy to say anything to him anyway.

I try not to have regrets, but MAN, do I wish I'd stuck around to meet John Glenn. I'm not sure what I would've said ("Hey! I drove down the John & Annie Glenn Highway on my way to college" seems ridiculous), but I could've at least tried.

As a consolation prize, I left the event (a memorial service for fellow Ohio Senator Howard Metzenbaum, who died in March) & stepped onto an elevator occupied by some current member of the Senate rushing to a floor vote. Unfortunately, I have no idea who he was.
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Wrapper's Delight

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

I got off the Metro this afternoon & picked up a banana from my favorite street corner vendor, a stocky Arab woman with super-cheap prices & a good selection of food that's completely devoid of any nutritional value (OK, except for the banana, obviously). As I searched her rack of chip selections for a bag of Sun Chips, I came across the most glorious potato snack ever created. I don't intend to eat them, of course, but how could I pass up the hilarity of the bag they came in?

I've heard tell of these Rap Snacks, designed to attract teenage inner-city kids to potato-chip eating. Apparently Doritos' advertising scheme is not workin' the ghetto vibe. Rap Snacks to the rescue! Rap Snacks, which claims to be a 10-year-old company (a fact of which I am skeptical), basically just slaps a hip-hop star's face on poorly designed bags & hopes to hit it big in the apparently otherwise-neglected inner-city potato chip industry.

If you can't see clearly, the flavor of chips contained inside this particular bag is "Bar-b-quin' with my HONEY," which I assume means Honey BBQ, although my suburban slangless roots can't be sure of my deciphering skills. What actually freaks me out the most is that the bag with Yung Joc on them is HONEY DEW flavored. What does that mean? Like... actual honeydew? The fruit? Or is this somehow slang, too?

Whatever. Who am I to rag on the "official snack of hip-hop"? Gotta give somebody credit for innovation...

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Home Sweet You-Know-What Motel

Sunday, July 13, 2008

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I may later blog on about some of the myriad of questions that are flitting throughout my brain following an intense day of traveling, but for now, this is all I will post. This aforementioned "this" is a rather blurry photo, primarily because I didn't want to get to close to its subject. Yes, dear readers, what you are about to see was taken at approximately 11:51 p.m. EST in the lobby of my beloved apartment building, two legs squashed to the gaudy checkerboard tiles but otherwise fully in tact, i.e. bodily, i.e. the gross part:


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Kate Does Cali (With a Little Help)

Friday, July 11, 2008

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In case you missed it, everyone's favorite Suburban Sweetheart has spent most of this week in the Golden State working with a group of high schoolers who are spending a month in San Francisco doing volunteer work.

Today was a light day, so I met up with my old college roommate for dinner at Spiazzo in West Portal (very nice); afterwards, she sent me on my way back to the San Fran State dorms via muni, this city's snazzy term for public transportation that's part bus, part train & wholly unMetro. She told me which stop to get off at, & I successfully un-boarded, at which time I realized I had a bigger problem -- I had no idea how to get back to my building. No one I stopped for directions seemed to have ever set foot in the city before, so I wandered the SFSU campus aimlessly for a bit before asked three Asian tourists for help.

"Strangers!" the one man said, indicating his inability to direct me. "Me, too," I sighed, turning to leave. But then one of the men turned back to me -- "You need map?" he asked, & I must have looked either very grateful or very, very lost, because the men conversed in their native tongue for a sec & then assigned one of the three to Directional Duty. He motioned for me to follow him, & we set off across the quad, him quite determined & me quite embarrassed/grateful/hoping not to be abducted/etc.

He spoke approximately a dozen words of English, including (& probably limited to) the following:

  • "You American?" -- To determine my ethnicity (& he was Korean, for the record)
  • "Two weeks" -- The amount of time he was staying at SFSU
  • "Mechanical engineering" -- His course of study
  • "Very cold" -- Pretty self-explanatory
  • "More clothes?" -- Following the previous statement, while offering his sweatshirt to me (I declined)
  • "I'm OK" -- When I thanked him repeatedly for his help; I think he meant "It's OK!" but it's unclear
In other foreigner news, earlier in the day I verbally battled a small gang of somewhat agrressive Austrian swimmers aged approximately 12-15 as they begged to climb out my dorm window to retrieve a ball they'd thrown onto the roof outside it. My answer, of course, was no; instead, a teammate scaled the side of the building, Spiderman-style, & successfully obtained said ball.

Over all, quite the international day for me. Who needs a passport when you can conjur up awkward interactions with strangers from abroad?
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Note to Self: Hang On to Your Reminders

Monday, July 7, 2008

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Today I spotted a small, pink Post-It note stuck to the Metro escalator railing that read, "Don't forget! Rakowski time sheets!!!"

Three exclamation points, no kidding.
Poor Rakowski. I wonder if he ever got paid?
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My New Favorite Game, Part Dos

Thursday, July 3, 2008

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Round Two: Things That Are Bigger Than Kate's Apartment:
(Round One was here, in case you missed it.)

#3: My office, lovingly known as "The KRB," which is inhabited by four employees & our desks, is still larger than my abode.

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Musical Metro Chairs & the Guessing Game that Goes with It

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

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Decisions, decisions.

There's a fine art to deciding who to sit next to on the Metro. The ideal situation is to sit in one seat of a free pair of seats, thus avoiding the problem entirely. But often, as was the case this a.m., no pair of seats will be totally open, and there begins the dilemma. If I choose not to choose & to stand instead, it will not go unnoticed -- when I watch people choose not to choose & to stand instead, I always wonder, "What's wrong with me that you don't want to sit next to me?" before, of course, relishing my space.

Anyways, the dilemma. For obvious reasons, I am wary of sitting next to the Sketchy-Looking Middle-Aged Man, the one who hasn't leered at me yet but can be guaranteed to re-situate after my arrival to ensure that his grey-haired arm brushes mine in the most inescapable of sitting positions.

I am equally hesitant to sit next to the Obese Woman Who Needs 1.5 Seats. She looks friendly, yes, & in theory is probably a safe bet, but the truth is that no matter how rockin' my bod may be, my ass is simply too large to fit in the half a seat this woman's presence has provided me with. I swallow a bubble of guilt -- she knows why no one's sitting there yet -- & move along.

I'd sit next to the Friendly Indie High Schooler, he of the floppy hair, welcoming smile & H&M scarf, but somehow it makes me feel like a creep. Although I'm a fan of the Ting Tings album emitting loudly from his iPod Touch, it seems somehow pedophiliac of me to opt for the seat next to a teen when every other option would place me next to a real person... er... legal adult.

I hesitate to sit next to others, too: Questionably Sane Man Muttering to Himself, Sleeping Guy At Risk of Drooling on My Knees, Shopper Toting Entirely Too Many Bloomingdale's Bags, Zealot Highlighting Biblical Passages...
I repeat: decisions, decisions. In the end, I chose the Friendly Indie High Schooler, primarily for the soundtrack that came with him.
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