This is the end, my friends.

Adieu. I end my job today (in five, four, three...), and the gf and I start on the road trip on Sunday morning. Maybe I'll update this a few times over the summer, but I ain't making no promises to nobody I don't know. In the fall I may come back to blogging, but I'll be based out of Austin, Texas, so a DC-themed blog probably doesn't make the most sense.

word.

Ted Leo, what what

If you couldn't get a ticket to last night's sold-out Ted Leo show, you can go thank your local high schooler. They showed up early and in force.

Mary Timony, same as always, comes across as a cross between Kim Deal and Liz Phair. Personally, I love the tunes, just as I did in 1996, but the lyrics and vocals leave something to be desired. Sorry to rag, but my time is short.

Radio 4, yeah. At first they sounded a lot like Q and Not U, with the same funk infused rhythm and energetic dancing. But then I realized that they were epileptic and having seizures on stage. Decent opening act nonetheless. I think that they could go really far since the lead singer looks like Paul Simon and the guitarist looks just like that dude from The State and Wet, Hot American Summer, Michael Showalter, so yeah they could break into the OC crowd.

Before I get to Ted Leo, let me just say respect to the kid in the front row wearing the yarmukle. My only suggestion would be to get a more fashionable pattern. Traditional is good when you want a traditional lady, but you were at a Ted Leo show, so I'm thinking that you might want your girl to be a little more hip and cutting edge. Meet her halfway.

Alright, back to what counts, Ted Leo rocking out. Internet hype or no, the man can put on a show. The crowd was into him being there, and he kept up his usual rapport with the audience. And he blazed through a solid set of songs. A- on the music and sound, A+ on the concert experience.

And for bonus hipness, here is an excerpt from his website:

SOARING TICKET PRICES!!
Yikes! I just got a very welcome e-mail from a guy going to the 9:30 this week informing me of insane surcharges on the tickets he purchased. I must heartily apologize to any and all who have experienced this as well. Honestly, I didn't even look into who was handling ticketing for this show, but of course, the culprit (if you don't go directly through the club) is... yeah, you guessed it: Ticketmaster. And of course, as I now look at my own web-site, I see that there's a Ticketmaster link below a bunch of the shows... DUH... Man, am I sorry about this. Alright, well anyway, I present, for your perusal, our conversation below, and ask you to accept my apologies to the "D" as apologies to you as well. We'll stay on top of it, I promise...

On Jun 11, 2005, at 4:21 PM, D**** wrote:
Hey, this email might be better sent to your bookign agent, but I was wondering why you book with clubs that use the great evil that is ticketmaster? Is it because they usually are larger venues or is this just something you don't normally pay attention to? I'm only asking because I was buying a ticket to your show at the 9:30 club in Washington DC, which is 12 dollars, but with all the extra surcharges, it becomes a $25 dollar show. I hate to sound whiny, even though that's probably what I'm coming off as, but do you think that on future tours you could support smaller venues, or is that just not an option?
Thanks, D*****

-- Response:
Ouch! That is rough, man -- I'm sorry about that. I just tried to buy a ticket through Ticketmaster myself, and found that if I chose to pick it up at the venue, it comes out to just under $20, which is still ridiculous, but not $25 -- did you ask them to overnight it to you or something? It sucks, either way, I know... One option would have been to buy them directly from the 9:30 box office, but that doesn't really help you at this point, either... Ticketmaster is an organization that has never really been a part of our equation before, and assuming that on-line ticketing would be done through the club (as it is at most of the places we've been playing for the past many many years) we didn't really look into what was going on with it for this particular show. Oddly enough, though, one thing I do know about Ticketmaster, is that the DC Ticketmaster franchise is the only one in the country that wasn't bought out by the larger corporation, and thus, remains independent of much of their shittiness. Apparently not enough of it, though! Be that as it may, when we have only one night to spend in a town, we have to face the crappy choice of having more than half of the people who might want to see us not be able to get in by playing the smaller clubs we've all been accustomed to, or going with the bigger clubs (9:30 in DC, Irving Plaza in NYC, etc.). And I don't mean to diss the 9:30 -- it's an amazing club, that we're psyched to be able to "move up" to -- but in essence, it's the spike in attendance that's why we're there this time around, and not doing multiple nights at the Black Cat, like last time. For instance, in December, at the Cat, we did two nights, with each night over-selling to 800+ people in a 600 capacity club. We simply can't stay for multiple nights on this trip, so we had to go with the 9:30, which has a 1200 capacity, still, possibly locking some people out, but considerably less than had we gone with the Cat again for only one night. You can't really just block out 2/3 of the people who want to come see you, so unfortunately, small venues aren't really an option sometimes. We are, however, extremely conscientious about the "business" side of our business. I've spent the last "x" amount of years of my life playing small venues, and learning how to control the things you need to, while allowing your "thing" to grow, and you can bet that there's a reason for just about every choice I (and Mahmood, my booking agent) make. This time, however, things were being booked while I was overseas for months, blah, blah, blah, not much of an excuse, I know... and it seems like we dropped the ball. I apologize for that. I'm sorry you had such a frustrating experience -- I'll be sure to look deeper into ticketing issues for the next tour! Thanks.
--TL
P.S. -- I hope you won't mind me putting this conversation on my website, in case there are others who are wondering what you are as well. I'll delete your name and e-mail addy. Thanks!

So sorry about this everybody!
Always Learning,
--Ted

DC once, DC forever.

All in all, I've had a solid couple of weeks of concerts (Old 97's, Bloc Party, and TL+P), and feeling good as I head out of town.

The internet is for conversations that I just can't have with my co-workers

Whole heartedly lifted from Sue and Not U. I was going to just link it, but then I remembered that I don't click on random links on people's blogs, so why should I expect you too. But I encourage you to check hers out, cause its all about the hits, right?

Neurotica
Strolling down U St. yesterday afternoon, Kriston and I passed by the grime-covered, dilapidated storefront of Exotic Pleasures—a depressing, lurid establishment that seems to have weathered a great deal, but never a customer.

K: Guh, how does that place stay in business?

Me: I know. Who would want to fulfill their pleasures there?

K: Wasn't there one of those by your old house in Austin? It was all hip, and...

Me: ...earthy, and "Oooh, I'm so comfortable with my sexuality." [pause] Although, I imagine it would be strange to have an exotic pleasures store that was not comfortable with sexuality.

K: That would be pretty great. A repressed sex shop.

Me: Yeah, your toy could come with flagellation devices so you could go "Oh God, I hate myself!"

K: And the videos they sell would just show a man and a woman sitting on a bed, and him going "I swear this never happens."

Me: And she's all, "Oh, it's really okay! It's normal!"

K: And then that's the end.

Me: The name of the store could be: Crying While Masturbating. For Catholics.

Prepping the new home

In the midst of the drag 'em out, knock 'em down slug-fest of a Spurs-Pistons Game 6, I had the distinct pleasure of watching the season premiere of Real World 16: Austin. Whoo-wee! Not only was I able to say "I've been there! I've been there!", but some cast member got fucking cold cocked on his second night of bar crawling, literally getting his face broken! Go MTV! As for the guy who beat his ass, I am sure that he was so excited to get his fifteen minutes of fame in front of the MTV cameras by punching some drunk dude who was on the ground, that he completely forgot that he was committing assault on film. Good move wise guy. Not that I object to the drunken, fratbags getting hassled by the locals, but please. I hope that your dumb ass is in jail and off of 6th Street by the time I get down there.

Aside from the injection of dramatic violence, the rest of the episode is just a repetition of what these kids think that the Real World Genre is all about. The first thing that they did was get drunk and sit in the hot tub. Then they got two of the girls to kiss. Then they all got in the shower together. Then they went out and got really drunk. A girl started dancing on the bar, a guy tried to be protective of her, they yelled at each other. Guy storms off, and everyone tries to find him on the streets of Austin, you know rather than going back to the house. Then they get in a fight with random dudes on the street.

Yup, the first episode was a cross between the entire fourth season of Real World and a single episode of the OC. What's next on the list? I'm betting that the blonde girl who walks around the apartment in her underwear ("at home I walk around in my bra and panties in front of my parents") gets fucked by one of the dudes in the house. Even money.

-Oh and for those of you who said that the NBA finals were going to suck, we got us a game 7! A series hasn't gone that long for eleven years. These two teams want it. And my hatred of Manu Ginobli's flops grows inside of me everyday. Fucking hack. I don't like floppers in soccer, and they definitely don't belong in basketball. The NBA should start handing out technical fouls for players who try to draw imaginary fouls.

I just thought that the world had "gone gay"

Thank god for the New York Times. I was walking to work this morning, and my gaydar was going ding-ding-ding! Gays to the left of me Gays to the right. They were everywhere. Then I realized that it wasn't just me who was having trouble: "Gay or Straight? Hard to Tell". Oh my savior of cultural news that is about six months out of date! Hopefully by the time that I am 45 and completely out of touch with modern culture, I too can glean nuggets of fashionably late information from your doddering pages!

Road Trip!

Three and a half more days of work. Then a summer on the road. Who knew that quitting your job and moving halfway across the country could be so stressful? I'm really hoping that once Friday rolls around, all of the little things that didn't get done will pass on, and the gf and I can enjoy six weeks driving around the country.

After two months of dragging our asses planning (well, of my dragging my ass planning) we finally came up with an itinerary that hits most of places we want to see. Sure we'll be rolling through some places quicker than I'd like, but I only have so much time and money. Tough-titties.

1. Columbus, OH. Yeah, I know, we have a place to crash and its halfway to
2. Chicago
3. Badlands, SD and Mount Rushmore
4. Glacier National Park
5. Spokane, WA, the Grand Coulee Dam, and the North Cascades
6. Seattle
7. Olympic Peninsula
8. Washington, Oregon, and Northern California Coast.
9. San Francisco
10. Yosemite
11. The godless city of LA
12. Zion, North Rim of the Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Arches, Canyonlands, Moab
13. Santa Fe, NM
14. Austin, TX

Just typing it all out gets me jittery with excitement. Kinda like sex, only more family friendly.

If you have some thoughts about must see places in or between these locales, it is not too late to have an impact on "The Greatest Road Trip Ever Taken By Me!" as this event has been labeled for publicities sake. And if you check back in over the next few weeks, there might just be some updates and photos to evoke public commentary. Who knows, there might even be some witty stories that poke fun at the trashiness that is the heartland of America. Wow, it is like one big mystery.


-As I wrote this I found a link to a friend, who is doing a waaaaaay cooler road trip this summer, fifty state capitals in fifty days. Pretty nifty. Makes my little trip look shabby in comparison. I will now go cry.

Oh yeah, like a new Giant was enough.

I know that I've been running around preparing for my grand exit, and I haven't been getting as much sleep as I should have, but I would swear that I just saw an aisle full of beer and wine at the unSafeway on Columbia. WTF? The only consolation that I can take from this new found convenience is that now the always functional cheese, deli meat, butter aisle is now half the size and selection. Oh yeah, and they don't have room for saltines! Go Team Gentrification!

Eviction is a depressing thing.

Someone just got kicked out of their public housing on Harvard. Its depressing to see all of the miscellaneous crap that was haphazardly dragged out of their apartment. Its even more depressing that I wasn't sure that it wasn't just a poorly timed yard-sale or a garage cleaning until I saw the security guard blocking the door. Put a bummer on my night.

Weekend Bar Bitch

Somehow in a three day weekend, there is always more than enough time to drink and actually be productive.

Friday started out with a trip to REI to purchase a tent and other assorted gear for this summer's next week's road trip. After fiddling around the rest of the day, the gf and I met up with out mother's for dinner at Ardeo. Aside from the restaurant being absolutely dead at 7:30 on a Friday night, the food was pretty good for the $16-22 entree range. I'd be in no hurry to go back, but if someone said they were going, I'd tell them that they made a good choice.

Next was a meet-up with some friends in Dupont, where we had a $10 foofy drink at Firefly before heading over to Lucky Bar. Firefly good, Lucky Bar baaaaaaaaad. First of all, no one should ever have to wait in line to get into Lucky Bar. The line was longer and slower than next door at MCCXXIII. Second, at some point in my life, I would have agreed with the following statement: "Seeing a girl who is enjoying grinding with two dudes on the dance-floor is a decent indicator of a place with the potential to be very interesting." I am clearly no longer at that place in my life. Watching the creepy 35-year olds stare at the trashy, trashed interns dancing made me very uncomfortable. Luckily we were able to grab our acquaintances and head over to the Big Hunt, where we could sit, drink, and not feel like filthy old men.

Saturday brunch with the future-in-laws was at 15 Ria. Good food, no problem getting a table outside, terrible service. You make the call. The rest of the day was a blur of boxes and packing tape. The good news is that I'm almost ready to go.

Saturday night was Wonderlandful. Well, it would have been if we weren't playing Goldielocks. The downstairs was too smoky, and the upstairs had a godawful DJ playing techno-crap at a volume that was deafening. After a few more songs that DJs switched, and we got a more tolerable volume of good reggae and hip-hop. Pints of Racer 5, until bedtime. At some point there was dancing involved, but I think that may reveal too much of the evening. All I can say is "Vaginica?"

Sunday was a hell of planning and packing at Lauren's, but progress was made. An itinerary for the road trip was finalized, but we still have enough flexibility to take a few extra days wherever we like (it'll be posted later today for public comments). Then Father's Day dinner was going great until I saw that on the back of one of the ties that I had bought for my father it read (no shitting you) "Please remove before sex." At that point, I couldn't take the painfully stilted conversation between my parents and their college friends that followed. Thinking about it just sent a shiver up my spine.

Then there was the basketball game....until way past my bedtime. Robert Horry, Robert Horry, Robert motherfucking Horry. How do you not guard that fucker? How?

No Sleep 'til...

After work nap. Coffee. Bloc Party.

Amazing. For those of you unable to acquire tickets, I am truly sorry. Although I would have loved to have seen you there rather than the beefcake bonanza that it appeared to be at times, you missed a great concert at which the band played a really tight set while staying loose on stage. I'm hard pressed to say who I got a bigger kick out of, the lead singer, Kele Okereke, who played off of the crowd, taking flowers, requests, and dollar bills, or the drummer, Matt Tong, who rocked out with his bouncing feathered hair and trash-'stash galore (perhaps there'll be pictures later!).

Thoughts from the evening:

1. Now I know what bands do when they only have one album. They play every song on the album without question. You'll have to check out some other blog for a set list, but off the top of my head, I don't think they played a song that wasn't on the album. And I don't think that they missed any songs either. 14 songs on a Thursday night is good enough for me.

2. Early on in the show there were balloons bouncing around the crowd. Then, once a balloon landed on stage and Kele picked it up and said something about it, they all disappeared into people hands. No more fun bouncing balloons. One woman ended up with two of them. What the hell are you going to do with a balloon from a concert? Hang it on your wall until it shrivels up like testicles in cold water? Fucking lame DC, fucking lame.

3. No dancing. For once I'm not going to blame the DC hardcore scene or the crowd for this one. After some introspective thought, I came up with two reasons why people no longer dance at concerts. A. People come to see the bands. When they dance, or are surrounded by people bouncing up and down, they can no longer focus solely on the band and the music. As a corollary to this point, people pay too much money to casually attend and not pay attention to the band. B. Since concerts have become a major moneymaker for bands and venues, the venues pack in as many paying customers as possible, making it impossible to comfortably dance without elbowing your neighbor. No space=no dancing. These two points don't even touch on the growing self-consciousness of American adolescents and young adults.

4. Before the encore, the crowd just sat there expectantly. No real sign of appreciation or strong desire to drag the band back out. Sure, there were two technicians on stage tuning, but if I was in the band, and the audience wasn't clapping and chanting, I wouldn't come back out on stage. Weird. But then again the whole night was a little off. Like the older DC-indie crowd had gone to the Modest Mouse concert, leaving the younger kids who didn't know their ass from a whole in the wall to act like spoiled brats. Just a random thought.

5. I'm kinda glad that I didn't go to see the Pixies/Bloc Party on Monday night because I'd bet that they played the same set. Since they don't have any other songs. Maybe I'm wrong though. I frequently am. Hopefully they'll come to Austin on their next tour. Cause they fucking rocked like stars.

6. Why don't I get coffee more frequently at shows? The legs never got tired, the mind never drifted too far... Oh yeah, cause now I can't sleep. Thank god I'm taking tomorrow off. Suckers. (is it wrong to make fun of your readers?)

Batman Begins is to Mr. And Mrs. Smith like....

...Heart of Darkness is to Catch-22.

Hahahahahahahaha. Hahahahaha.

Seriously, though, if you like summer fluff (and who doesn't love fluffers?) these two films give you action-plus. Plus what you might ask, well Batman Begins gives you action plus a dark look at how humanity struggles to destroy evil without becoming evil itself, while Mr. And Mrs. Smith gives you action plus sexual tension. Man, I was almost able to write that with cracking a smile. Look, neither of these movies is going to enter into the canon of film, but they're good enough to be enjoyable. Certainly comparable to everything here. And better than SWAT. Maybe even better than Bad Boys II. Yes, that good.

Morning Headlines: 2 for 1 squared

Filed under "Shit, you mean that I have to get re-elected to keep this job," 1. the House voted to repeal some of the most offensive parts of the Patriot Act 2. GOP leaders begin quest to stop screwing the American people on Social Security

On the lighter side, we have two happy family stories, 1. Alzheimer's isn't so bad when the kids cash in on Deep Throat 2. apparently that little lady down in Florida really was a zombie.

Its days like this when I start to question why I even bother to read the newspaper. If I stuck to blogs, I could have been knee deep in hearing how the Washingtonienne gettin' served up a heapin' pile of court order at her reading last night.

This just in: Offensively anti-intellectual Heritage Foundation continues to support poor research

Surprise, surprise, without resorting to rigorous methodology, the Heritage Foundation has released a study stating that teens who take virginity pledge are less likely to engage in sexual behavior or have an STD.

Independent experts called the new findings provocative, but criticized the Heritage team's analysis as flawed and lacking the statistical evidence to back its conclusions. The new findings have not been submitted to a journal for publication, an author said. The independent experts who reviewed the study said the findings were unlikely to be published in their present form.

Perhaps because Heritage used a much less rigorous standard for their data? Well, they just want to "let the readers decide" about their misleading report.

Also the Heritage foundation, unlike the earlier study that it struggles to rebut, relies on self-reporting for its analysis. Oh, if I was a teenager, I would absolutely report that I had contracted chlamydia, if I was even aware of that fact.

Then, "In an unusual feature of a scientific report, the Heritage team said that Dr. Bearman's team "deliberately misled the press and the public" about some of its findings." Unusual feature of a scientific report? Isn't this the Heritage Foundation, making this, you know, a political report?

Pass the gas-mask

A college-acquaintance came down to DC to become yet another warm body among the hordes of interns. Monday was his orientation at a large, non-Defense or Homeland Security, government department included the handing out of gas-masks to every new employee. Are we really that afraid of terror attacks that the government is handing out masks to its employees? Then why didn't I get one? Yes, some departments have more money than sense, but come on now. They weren't even personally fitted for their masks, meaning that the likelihood of their actually protecting the wearer is close to nil. Good job.

gettin' copied faster than xerox

I stole that photo first DCist! Give it back! Ah the wonders of Flickr.

Going for a walk, taking a piss.

A few nights ago, the gf and I were out for a stroll in Mt. P, and I found myself really needing to take a piss. We stopped by a friend's house, but no one was home. What do you do now? I mean easy answer right? Step into a dark alley and try not to hit anything that you wouldn't want to have pissed on.

Clearly, this could not just go smoothly. As I'm mid-stream, two dog walkers pass behind me in the alley. Who walks their dogs through an alley at 10pm? By the time I zip up and walk out of the alley, I figure that they should be far enough on their merry way that we can all pretend that an awkward situation of walking passed a stranger pissing in public never happened. Wrong.

There they are kind of hovering around. You can just sense that they want to say something. Chastise me for picking their alley to piss in. Not going to happen. I cross over the street while the gf takes a phone call. The dog walkers take a right. We give them a second and then take a left. Conflict averted.

Ten minutes later we cross paths with the dog-walkers. Evil glares are received. So here is my apology. Sorry for pissing in an alley. Next time that I need to piss, I will make like your dogs and piss on a fire hydrant. Social mores my ass.

Rainbow

Rainbow
Originally uploaded by Olivia Leigh.

Who says that there isn't beauty in the city? This evening's storm brought with it a rainbow and some fabulous light. The orange glow made even the shabbiest houses look golden. Sigh.

A weekend concerto in three parts: Sunday

Evan, Croquet Novice
Originally uploaded by Fletch DC.

And on the third day, the lord brought food upon which we gorged ourselves. Lauren and I were celebrated at our going away BBQ by our friends, family, and misc. hangers-on. There was food, there was drink, there was croquet. Pictures will be available later. For those who have an in with the family, there is lots of food left over, so you may be receiving another BBQ invite sometime this week.

The, sadly, my final act of the weekend was to turn down a ticket to see the Pixies/Bloc Party concert tonight. Sad but true. When you only have 13 days left in your hometown, there are a lot of loose ends that need tying up. (Dealing with a situation like this also entered the picture) For now, I will just pretend that the Pixies are as they were when I first listened to Doolittle in 8th grade, broken up.

A weekend concerto in three parts: Saturday

Surprisingly enough, when you are quitting your job, leaving town for a six week road-trip, and starting grad school in another state, there is a ton of shit that you have to do before you go. Some of it was done from the pleasant enjoyment of bed on Saturday afternoon. God bless central AC and wireless internet.

Old 97s show. Awesome. The only band in recent memory that has actually given not one, but two encores at the 9:30 Club. Both well deserved. Other points of note.

1. Rhett Miller's voice was shit. It sounded like he'd been touring for a bit too long and the raspy strains couldn't hit the high notes. It did improve as the evening progressed and he fed off of the crowd's enthusiasm.

2. I have not felt young at a concert in many years. The late-30-something crowd was old but energetic. The people sitting on the upstairs risers somehow believed that they could take up both the space on the risers and the railing. Maybe that's because they haven't been to a standing-room only concert in a while, but here's a hint: a sold-out show means that the 9:30 club sold all of their space. It means that you have to stand where you want to watch the show from, whether the band is on stage or not.

3. The one young person I noticed was really rocking out. Like she was at a Poison concert, circa 1989. Maybe it was her version of two-steppin' it, who knows. Not to mislead you, my readers, she only flashed her bangs around when she was singing along. Apparently she had only ever heard Satellite Rides, but man did she have those lyrics down.


Again, additional blubbering about how the show was amazing probably won't help, but tough shit. Go and listen to some clips and buy an album. I'd tell you to buy Fight Songs, but there are some people out there with less musical taste than I.

A weekend concerto in three parts: Friday

I started to write about the massive shopping expedition to Costco, but then I realized how fucking inane that would be. Sometimes I need an editor to smack me upside my head to make me remember that I am trying to add to the "dialogue" of the internet, not to crap out mental diarrhea. Let it be noted that I have never seen as much food purchased at one time as I witnessed on Friday. Thank you moms and pops, your contributions to the food orgy that occurred on Sunday have been taken into consideration for retirement home placement.

Really though, let's talk about what a small town DC is. I'm sure that everyone, except for the flood of wide-eyed interns who bum-rushed my metro this morning, has experienced the random encounter with an unexpected acquaintance in this city. You're walking down the street and you see someone who looks familiar, then they turn around, shout your name, and you hold an impromptu exchange of varying awkwardness. I went to a small liberal arts school, and I think that I randomly run into more people here than I did strolling across campus. Chalk it up to the fact that everyone who counts either works or lives in the small corridor stretching from Dupont-Columbia Heights/Cleveland Park. Except for you Wyatt, except for you.

Having lived here all my life, many of my encounters occur with a stunning amount of discomfort since there is always the question of "what's the reason why we see each other anymore" floating above our conversations. Friday night was a prime example of this (and of yet another reason that I fastidiously strive to avoid Adams Morgan).

1. Walking into the Reef, I hand the bouncer my ID. Bouncer looks up, "I know you." I look at the bouncer. I look at him closely. I have no fucking clue. He says "You went to Hardy [Middle School], right?" (for those who care, I'm talking old school Hardy up on Foxhall, not this new place in Glover Park) I look again as my mind races through all of the names that I can recall, desperately trying to find a name and a face that matches. Blank. "Um, yeah," sheepishly "and you are...?" Yup, I definitely went to middle school with him.

2. Sitting in Bedrock Billiards with friends, I notice a guy playing pool across the room. We were in Scouts together (yes, Boy Scouts.), we would smoke in the woods on weekends. What do you do here? a. Pretend you don't see him, b. Go right up, say hi, and try to catch up on the last six years of each others lives, or c. Socialize your way closer and then talk if their is mutual recognition. I went with "c", made easier by the fact that the other half of our party was sitting right next to his table. That also gave me an easy exit when the conversation started to get stilted. He makes robots that detect land mines. I never would have guessed.

3. Walking down Columbia Rd. to get home, I see a former college roommate. Whom I don't know is in DC. You see, he stopped talking to me when I hooked up with a girl that he had a crush on. Actually, he stopped talking to me the night after she talked her way into sleeping in my bed with me, even though I refused to hook up with her because I knew that he would get pissed. In the morning, he threw our trash can across our living room, stopped talking to me, and I started hooking up with the girl. What do you do?

Clearly, there was no choice but to stop and talk, we have too many friends in common still to do otherwise. We made enough pleasant conversation that a total stranger might not realize that we didn't like each other, and then went our separate ways.

What's your strangest DC encounter?

Like Hotornot.com, only creepier

"BeautifulPeople.net is an online community whose purpose is to create relationships, both private and professional, between people who because of their attractive appearance and personal qualities stand out from the majority." Is this another avenue of eugenics? Breed the most attractive specimens and crush the egos of the ugly. Brutal.

Members vote publicly on new applicants. Apparently only about 1 in 15 make the cut. You would think that it might be a little bit more self-selecting. Maybe I'll sign up and see how I do. Not to toot my own horn (can I get a beep-beep), but if I pick a photo that doesn't show my emerging gut, I think I match up pretty favorably with some of those dudes. Then I can get invited to all of the beautiful people parties. In Britain. I wonder if there is grant money to cover the travel expenses?

BBC has a nice write-up about the ups and downs of the application process.

I couldn't have said it better

Courtesy of Webster's, you know that book thingy with lots of words in it.

Whoopee interj. Slang. -Used to express jubilence. -make whoopee. To celebrate noisily ex.: made whoopee after prom

On a related note, I am clearly out of touch with contemporary English. I thought that I have been whoremongering all these years, but these days the kids are calling it whoremastering. I am so embarrassed right now.

Oh, those wacky and crazy Harvard kids!

When will the hilarity end? Those future-farmers of America tucked away in their cocoon of liberalism and privilege had a ball yesterday playing "bingo" with Tim Russert's recycled commencement speech. What will they think of next? (Maybe how to best spend Mommy and Daddy's money on their tour of Europe?)

"Who's the lowest rated network in DC now?"-edition

Apparently WaPo's mediocre iPod story yesterday left some of the other regional media sources playing catch-up. For everyone who decided to skip out on last night's iPod DJ night at Saint-Ex., you may have just missed your 15 minutes of fame.

I know many of you out there probably caught this last night, since everyone who reads blogs clearly gets most of their news from the local television affiliates, but in case you missed it, here is their piece on iPod DJing. You may notice the sleek new 30GB iPod Photo with protective silicone iSkin that ol' Nancy is holding up. Yup, its mine. And those hands in the photo on the webpage? Mine also. Check out the video and you may notice the footage of a young man clearly struggling (perhaps even agonizing, we might say?) over what he's going to put on his playlist. Me too! I am so famous right now. I think that I'll just start demanding things from people and when they don't comply, start screaming "Don't you know who I am!!!!" Life is going to be good. Maybe I can get on MTV Cribs.

For my inaugural set, I chose something a little mellower. Started off with "Fuck and Run" Liz Phair off Exile in Guyville. Moved to "Perfect World" by the Pietasters from Piestomp (you can listen here). And then closed out with Soltero's "Communist Love Song." Not that anyone noticed since the basement was empty by the time my set came around at 12:15. Although I was surprised by the reaction that the Pietaster's song got, clearly Saint-Ex. has not been completed subsumed by the suburban masses.

Also, to Jake, thanks for getting me to switch over to Jameson from the light beer. My current state of utter agony lies heavily on your shoulders. And to the guy who practically begged us to stay for his set: I am really sorry that we bolted for the stairs when you turned your back. Its not that we thought you were creepy, it is really just that it was 1am and you seemed like too nice a guy to just abandon you to your face.


And now DCist has picked it up.

One more reason why this administration is an embarrassment to representative governments everywhere

Without the slightest hint of explanation, the Justice Department just lowered the penalty on tobacco companies from $130 Billion to $10 Billion. Yeah, you guys are really looking out for the voters on that one. Who knows, maybe smokers are the new NASCAR Dads.

Gentrifying 14th st., or trading hookers and crack for hookers and blow

Not wanting to get caught up in the pissing match that went on in the comments section of the DCist post on the new development at 14th and V St., I'll use my forty acres here to say my piece.

1. The stretch of 14th st. between U st. all the way up to Park st. is almost without question one of the shabbiest stretches of Northwest. Its little more than empty lots and bland facades looking upon concrete. Down right ugly. Anyone who objects to new construction projects in this stretch needs to stop being a fucking mouth piece for their "radical" agenda and open their eyes. Sure, some people may think that "Union Row" may not have the aesthetic appeal of the surrounding rowhouses, or the art deco buildings that can be found scattered through Dupont, but no one in their right mind is going to object to development because they think that a rubble strewn lot is more attractive than a cheesy steel and glass structure.

2. Affordable housing is the key issue here, and it is an issue that the pro-development folks like to shunt off to the side because in this town class=race and no developer wants to be labeled as a racist. New developments are bringing in ass-loads of expensive units. Older buildings are being renovated or gutted to create new luxury condo units. The pressures of rising property values mean that long time residents are forced to leave because they can't afford their new rent or their property taxes are higher than their income. The question of affordable housing is then where do these people go? In this city there isn't anywhere. Hell, I have a half-decent job and there's no way in hell that I could afford to buy in this city without taking on more debt than I am willing/the banks will give me. Now before you get all pissy on me, I was born in this city, and I've lived here for 24 years. If I want to keep living here, it should be my choice. Its nice that the city has brought in retailers and developers, but it has an obligation to its current residents.

3. The new residents conflict with the existing community. How do you think the owners of the new luxury condos are going to feel when they realize that they are across the street from Martha's Table? Or that Lazarus House is just up the block? What about that big satellite dish on the other corner of 14th and V.? It didn't take the new Georgetown residents too long before they started making unforeseen demands in the name of their property values. It is one thing to try to better your community, its another to destroy your community in the name of your investment.

There is certainly a lot more to be said on this issue, but I'll leave it be for now since I have to go to a very important meeting on shelves. Go and gentrify safely. And if you know the guy who spray paints anti-gentrification tags in C-Heights, punch him in the fucking head for being such a douche bag.

Catching up.

I don't know if anyone actually read the NY Times series Class in America, but Joel Achenbach hit it on the head when he said that "it seems to be one of those endeavors that Dave Barry said should carry a warning: "Journalism Prize Entry -- Do Not Read."

Part of that reason is because it was such a drawn out piece that was clearly meant to "have an impact." But there was more to it than that. Chris Lehmann explores the amusingly real problem with the New York Times writing an exploitation piece about class issues in America.

AT FIRST GLANCE, "Class Matters" — the New York Times’ epic inquiry into the widening economic divisions of the new millennium — appears to be what its editors solemnly claim: a well-intentioned effort to reckon with a serious social condition, one that notoriously eludes clear understanding in America, so long hymned as the planet’s pre-eminent land of opportunity. Alas, however, the New York Times is in no position to deliver. In contrast to, say, the paper’s conscientious reporting on the ’60s-era civil-rights movement in the South, its foray into class consciousness suffers from a fatal flaw. Social class is at the core of the Times’ institutional identity, which prevents the paper from offering the sort of dispassionate, critically searching discussion the subject demands.

Even as the paper takes hits for its alleged liberal bias, it retains a supremely undeviating affinity for the cultural habits of the rich and celebrated — most obviously in its Sunday Vows section, which features short celebratory biographies of newly consummated mateships from the overclass. The Sunday Styles section — along with the Home and Dining sections, the T: Style magazine, and the recently added Thursday Styles — delivers breathless dispatches on the mores, tastes, status worries, and modes of pecuniary display favored by the coming generation of anxious downtown arrivistes.

and

Instead Scott and Leonhardt marshal their readers through a leisurely tour of hoary American social mythology. America, they purr, "has gone a long way toward the appearance of classlessness" — meaning, one supposes, that the downwardly mobile middle classes are actually thriving on the appearance of being in possession of wealth and disposable income, as though, by analogy, it would have been perfectly acceptable to report design upgrades in segregated Southern drinking fountains as a meaningful advance for black civil rights. "Social diversity," they explain, "has erased many of the markers" separating the country’s haves from the have-nots. Yet they fail to recognize that a more socially diverse ruling class remains a ruling class, after all — an uncomfortable truth easily overlooked when one is writing for an influential organ of said ruling class.

Ouch. Boston Phoenix 1, NY Times 0.

A shot, shave, and a shower

I'm not sure which makes me more nervous, sitting in the doctor's chair or the barber's. Do you think that it is harder to tell someone that they have some sort of disease or a bad haircut?

1. Even at 24 tetanus shots make your arm go dead. I also have officially broken the 160 lb. plateau into massive hipster obesity. But on the plus side, I am now fully trained to give myself a monthly testicular exam.

2. After my haircut, I may no longer weigh over 160 lbs. The jury is still out on the hair. $16 at the Hair Cuttery is about the minimum to guarantee that you do not get butchered. It does not guarantee a good haircut.

3. It is 96 degrees outside. Walking back to the Heights from the West End left me sweaty as a pig. A shower and central-AC have left me much happier. Maybe a nap is in order.

Pettiness is the refuge of small minds.

The wonderful weekend was marred only by a single incident at the un-Safeway on Columbia Rd. Well, it would have been marred if I were the type of person who doesn't like to berate patently stupid people in a public setting.

Sunday at the grocery store. Everything is on sale. Nothing is on the shelves. The lines for the registers go halfway down the aisles. You know it. You love it.

So I'm waiting in the 15 item or less line with my little basket of food. After the ball game the gf, Jake and I had gotten some margaritas and Mexican at Alero's, the buzz was wearing off and I was getting antsy. Some people got in line behind me, and then the fun started.

Whiny bitch: It is sooooooooo hot in here. I think that its hotter in here than it is outside. (Patently wrong. It is at least ten degrees cooler in the store. But who am I to correct a stranger.) Doesn't it look like that woman ahead of us has more than 15 items in her basket? It totally does. I hate it when people do get in the express line with more than their limit. Its, like, the worst thing ever. I'm going to go count her items.

Excuse me? No one really cares about that shit that much, so they? She then goes and stands next to this woman for five minutes trying to count how many items are in her hand-basket. Frustrated by her inability to count to fifteen without using her toes, she comes back to line.

When my gf joins me in line, I'm sure that this woman is going to make some snide remark about cutting in line or something equally petty. But no, she saves her comments for when we have placed our items on the conveyor belt. Standing behind us, she turns to her partner in douche-bagger and comments on my gfs items in a loud-enough-so-that-everyone-around-can-hear-what-mind-blowing-information-I-have-to-convey voice: "That is sooo many more than 15 items. Why isn't she in another line. She should get out of the way and let us go. I hate it when people do shit like that." She rambles on a we stare at each other for a moment in disbelief before I tear into this useless sack of crap masquerading as a sentient being. Standing in line, with everyone looking, I let it go. "Are you fucking kidding me? That is the pettiest shit I've ever heard. Follow me on this one: one, two, three...(getting up there)..twelve...(shit miscalculated)...fourteen. (whew) I guess math wasn't your fucking strong suit honey. Maybe next time you should try not being wrong."

WB: But she has three bags of lettuce....
"Oh yeah, and there are four pears in that bag. Do you count them all too?" Pause. Breathe. "Maybe you should shut the fuck up."

Then because pettiness deserves pettiness in return, when I'm paying for my groceries I turn back to the poor, stupid woman and ask "Is it ok if I use my credit card in this line, or do I need to go somewhere else?" To which she replied with a quickly dimming spark of attitude "It doesn't say anything on the sign." "Yeah, I thought so. Important lesson of the day, a basket of groceries is 15 items."

In my mind, the entire grocery store would've burst into applause. I hate petty fucking people.

Weekend Wonders

RFK Stadium, Nationals vs. Marlins
Originally uploaded by Fletch.

Friday. Yes, Friday will now be fully part of my weekend until I leave DC.

1) Had blood drawn. God I hate needles. At least I'll never be a smack-fiend.
2) Revenge of the Sith. Don't believe the dorks, it really isn't that good. Instead of making something interesting, George Lucas decided answer all the questions that you might have about the original Star Wars Trilogy. In some ways this may be a die-hard fan's wet-dream, but it makes for an achingly mediocre movie. Not that you shouldn't go see it. Just have low expectations.
3) Washington Social Club. Still the best band to come out of DC recently. Like since Fugazi. Their energy on stage rivaled that of Q and Not U. Sure the sound was kind of muddled, but it was the Black Cat, bad sound comes standard.

Saturday. Aka, moving sucks day.
1) We don't live here any more. I am no longer on the lease at the Harvard Quaker Commune. I am sad to be gone. I will be happy when the last of the cat hair is washed from every possession that I own.
2)Drinks with friends. Drinks at the Toledo Lounge. Passing out happily well before the bars close.

Sunday.
1) Mount Pleasant Day. Not a lot of advertising for this one, which is probably a good thing considering that it was packed with people anyways. Ran into some book friends who I hope ran into some good sales in the afternoon.
2) Nats game. Beautiful. First place in the NL East. Word.

Thursday is the new Friday.

And Friday is the new Saturday, when you've got doctor's appointments and use or lose hours to burn. Star Wars here I come.

Prescient Pondering: Fatty Transport

When I am sitting in the disabled/seniors bench on the Metro, how fat does a person have to be for me to give up my seat?

If there are two of us on the bench, and it is clear that one seat will not be enough to fit your ponderous corpulence, do we both have to get up?

I hope that all stupid and patriotic Americans get whatever virus was attached to this email.

God Bless America!

Turn on your TV. Osama Bin Laden has been captured. While CNN has no pictures at this point of time, the military channel (PPV) released some pictures. I managed to capture a couple of these pictures off my TV. Ive attached a slideshow containing all the pictures I managed to capture. I apologize for the low quality, its the best I could do at this point of time. Hopefully CNN will have pictures and a video soon. God bless the USA!

Lard-ass alert! Free Krispy Kremes.

For all of you Dupont Circle wage-slaves who aren't on a diet to spare my eyes at the beach this summer, tomorrow is your lucky day. Krispy Kreme has declared Friday, June 3rd "Doughnut Day." They will be giving away doughnuts at all of their locations so that you can add pounds to your ass and thighs while becoming addicted to their warm sugary love cakes.

Be warned though, that the Dupont location plays a cheap hoax on you by importing pre-fried doughnuts that are only given a lukewarm coating of glaze. Head to a full service store, like the one in Alexandria, to experience a truly fresh doughnut. Remember, one free doughnut per customer, but chances are that by the time you wait in line, there will be a different server to give you another free doughnut. Bring your desk chair so as not to waste precious calories standing!

Bush, Deep Throatin'

"He was -- it's hard for me to judge because I was so coked up in 1974. I'm learning more about the situation by watching the movies. All I can tell you is, is that it's -- it was a revelation that caught me by surprise you know, Tricky Dick resigning because he had been abusing his power and lying to the American people, and I thought it very interesting that no one crucified this anonymous source. I'm looking forward to reading about it, reading about his relationship with the news media after I dismantle the Fourth Estate. It's a brand-new story for a lot of us who have been living under a fucking rock for the past thirty years."

Morning thoughts

For some reason Field of Dreams popped into my head this morning. Yeah, rough morning. More importantly though, how fucked up would you have to be to hear voices ("If you build it, they will come"), and then do what those voices tell you?

Shit-balls wasted.

Who knows, maybe the movie is all about the impact of an outbreak of ergot poisoning.

Dominion of Fun

When's the last time you went to an amusement park? Seriously. I just heard two people talking over lunch (interns perhaps?) about Kings Dominion and it just got me thinking. I used to love Kings Dominion when I was a kid/teenager. We would go once a summer, ride all of the roller-coasters and the water-slides, and just have a great time. But I can't for the life of me remember the last time that I went. I know that we drove with some friends in high school, so I must have been 16 or 17, but 8 years ago?

Do you outgrow amusement parks? I was never into the movie characters that wander around theme parks (to be fair, I my parents tell me that I "visited" Disney World when I was six months old, and I was visiting KD in the days before Paramount slapped their name on it for corporate branding). And now that I am older and wiser, the image of getting boozy and going on rides doesn't have quite the same appeal (although it is actually just the being boozy, tired, and waiting in line that doesn't appeal to me). Could I have fun the old fashioned way at an amusement park, just wandering around in the sun and going on rides? Want to find out?

But I have to work on Thursday

Its that time of year, when the little kids get up on stage under the bright lights of ESPN, and start spelling words incorrectly. Yep, the Scripps National Spelling Bee. Unfortunately, I will have to stream the competition from work, but maybe they'll replay the finals this weekend when I could sit down with some beers, some friends, and just laugh at the little kids when tears well up in their eyes.

Deep Throat

Yeah, I loved Linda Lovelace too. As for this whole Mark Felt thing, I have to agree with Hank Stuever that the knowledge takes away much of the thrill of the anonymous source. Now Deep Throat is just another tired old man. But maybe that's just me and Stuever. There were certainly enough previous attempts to discover Deep Throat's identity, that maybe knowledge doesn't take any of the sheen off. Maybe future University of Illinois students will stick to cheering for their basketball team, rather than embarrass themselves on the internet with their poor investigative skills.

In some ways the most intriguing part of this revelation is how it actually went down. Why would Felt, after having Woodward and Bernstein keep his identity secret for 30 years, not let them reveal his identity to the public? Farhi touches on this in his essay in the WaPo:

Vanity Fair's story hinted at but did not answer a key journalistic question: Was Felt, who is 91 and in ill health from a stroke, of sound enough mind to have confirmed his identity to O'Connor[the Felt family's lawyer and driving force behind the Vanity Fair article], or to have told Woodward that their agreement had ended?

The Vanity Fair story muddies the issue somewhat. O'Connor notes in the story that Felt told him, "I'm the guy they called Deep Throat," but the context is lacking. For one thing, O'Connor played a dual role: He was providing the Felt family with legal advice while also writing a magazine story, which meant that Felt's revelation may have been information provided under attorney-client privilege and therefore not subject to unilateral disclosure.

What's more, as O'Connor makes clear in his story, the Felt family was seeking to profit from Felt's secret identity and therefore had an incentive to pressure a clearly conflicted Felt into going public.

Seems kind of questionable to me, but who am I? Just some internet commentator. Perhaps I need a sleazy family lawyer and greedy children to make all of my decisions for me.