One of my most proud lexical creations is to say things like "...borderline completely..." as in "Your face is borderline completely repulsive." You know, to lead people on to think you're going to let them down gently by saying 'borderline' but then bring down the hammer with the 'completely.' I thought this would get more reactions. I don't know if it ever has. And if you know anything about me it is probably that I am nothing if not a reaction getter. It's like the saying "if a tree falls and no one hears it does it make a sound." For me if I don't get a reaction then I feel borderline completely non-existent. Hence the high-pitched whistle before it became purely habitual.
Anyway, so I had a couple friends getting married to each other this weekend in Knoxville, TN. Knoxville, Tennessee: the Paris of the American South. Let me explain:
1. Both have hosted World's Fairs: 1889 and 1982
2. Both have iconic tower-like structures from said World's Fairs: Eifel Tower and Sunsphere
3. Both are home to great universities: Sorbonne and The University of Tennessee - Knoxville
4. Both are awesome: I can only prove this for one, however
So at 11pm on Thursday we get on a bus and head west on 66 to then head south on 81 to west on 40 to land in Knoxville at 7am--I have done that route way too many times. That's 8 hours with about 1 hour of breaks in there. My grandfather says he was known to be able to sleep anywhere. I have always wanted to have a competition. On the bus ride down I sat in front of this obese gentleman, if I can say that, and I will/did. Well I wanted to recline my seat just a smidge and he was like "Can you not do that? There's not much room back here." "Uh, OK." Guess who had their seat reclined though without the slightest bit of expressed hypocrisy? Well lucky for him I can sleep anywhere and proceeded to fall asleep with seat concaving on me. Then Hypocrite Jack got off in Christiansburg, VA and I reclined my seat and slept like a dead person to the baby I was imitating while in a concave shape.
And we didn't even take a nap when we got there. We proceeded to play what I would have called beanbags and did, which is not acceptable in the south or where the bags are filled with corn. So we played cornhole. When I say I am good at throwing things you must understand I imply overhand. Underhand does not count. I won one out of like 30 games of corn hole this weekend.
A little while back there was this lady named Beth that was like "Hey you should leave the house on Sundays, go explore, and write about it on a blog." Well this Beth character lives in the Knoxville. And the Downtown Grill and Brewery is also located in Knoxville. So for lunch I was hungry for an awesome time sandwich with Beth and the DTG&B as the buns around the meat of me. I had the portabello mushroom sandwich. And an IPA and Porter--those are the real names of their beers--with the Porter being the awesomer of the two. And they were $3 each. O how I love you Knoxville.
JP Prince was a basketball player for Tennessee a couple years ago and he was never drafted. I have a friend named Pete that bet me a mini keg (we bet mini kegs often) that he would be. The wedding wasn't until 7 so we drank this mini keg I was owed while cornholing it beforehand.
Do you remember when I told you about needing people to react to me to feel existent. Well you should remember even stronger what I tell you about my strong aversion to being the focus of attention. I have been to like 3 weddings in my life and from the very first one it was absolutely apparent to me that there is a 0% chance I will be the type of person that stands in front however many people I can convince should dress up to come to this party I am throwing and while, oh by the way, this lady and I are going to tell each other how we feel about one another/promise sweet everythings up on a stage for a short while during it. My dad threw up at his wedding from nerves. I would do you one better father and just go ahead and blackout. So yeah again while I am pretty much on the fast track to being asocial, if by chance this doesn't work out and someone rich enough wants to hangout with me forever, this union will not be legally bound like most people do it absolutely for the sake of avoiding the attention. But for the right price I might do it conventionally and at that point the me needing reactions/confronting nerves/discomfort with humor would struggle greatly to not make a joke during vows ("Do you take this lady to be your wife?" "Obviously!"--No, that is not acceptable.)
Also, if I were to do this wedding thing conventionally it would be at the rapid pace that Sam and Mark did it. Then there was a bunch of awesome food. And open bar. And Rocky Top, which would have been the only song I would have danced to, but I was in the bathroom at the time. I take that back--not literally though because if I did I would have erased it--because there was a slow song to which I slow danced middle school style for awkwardness's sake.
I haven't been binge drinking too much lately though guys and what I am about to tell you is a direct result of this.
You can still smoke in bars in Tennessee. Going to Preservation Pub on Market Square in Knoxville used to be a lot like hanging out in the mouth of a smoker--loud, smokey, and hot. Now they have an upstairs where smoking is not permitted. We hung out there drinking for a little bit.
Then we went to what was a bar called World Grotto because the basement of the bar was cavernous like a grotto and it had an international feel to it. So we had been drinking for a little while now when we got to what was the World Grotto. As you walk in there are the steps to go down to the old grotto/current basement and for some reason over the steps and probably a little bit past the steps there is a table the size of a small room (maybe 9'x9'). Now I would say I am one of the more cerebral people I know and am usually thinking things through too much. Not so all this time, however: My friends are at one side of the floor/table and I decide, probably because I wanted to be the first person to touch the middle of this floor/table, to slither across the table like a snakey snake right off the other side. Some lady at the front door was not pleased. She called over a guy to deal with me. I don't know why this guy showed mercy but he merely said, "Promise me you will never do that again." Deal. I said, "I promise you I will never do that again" mostly because I will probably never be there again.
Now we're in the basement/grotto. Once we're down there I realize the guy upstairs probably let me stay because me and my friends increased the number of people in the place by like 600%. And then: lots of alcohol + wide open dance floor = Jeff doing a dance that cannot be described without using the terms "rythmic dancing-like," or "ecstasy induced," or "something only Jeff would do because he is borderline completely crazy." There is a video out there somewhere. Cross fingers the director at my "Mid-Twenties Fun Life Fund," aka my job, does not ever see it because her asking me to take a drug test will be awkward. And I promise there were no drugs involved.
After a night like this the only way to cap it off like curling up next to the fire on a cold winter evening is to get steak supreme burritos from Taco Bell. So there was that. And Saturday there was no hangover, miraculously.
Saturday was filled with stuff that are borderline completely impossible in DC. There was the trip to the $7 chinese buffet that included hibachi and sushi. There was the driving around the underrated campus of the University of Tennessee (how can you say something like this is on one of the most unattractive campuses in the country?). There was me buying the Royal Bangs album in their hometown. There was me walking a dog while other people napped and where said dog pooed in someone's yard, after which we literally ran away (sorry owners of that yard). There was more cornhole in someone's yard with grass and trees and bugs and allergies and stuff still coming out of my face perpetually and while sneezing. There are dive bars in the truest sense with $1 Natty Lights not during happy hour, holiday, etc. but forever and always. I might retire there. There is a bar called Old College Inn that is now located in what was a Chilis, where I actually worked for a semester in college, which regardless of the signs appeared to me to be nothing but a Chilis on a special occasion in which they dimmed the lights, removed some tables, and put in some games for me and my friends. And there is Cool Beans.
Our bus was at 1030am on Sunday. I woke up at 10. In the hustle out the door I forgot my phone. So I am down one alarm clock.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Day Late April 17 Weekend
Do you know how to clean suede? Do you know if the shoes that I need cleaning are actually suede?
Isn't this nice? I think so too:
(on Columbia Road just south of Adams Morgan)
Anyway, there were a few "noteworthy" events this weekend. Number one: DC now has its own brewery again. And it just so happens that they were making their first beer exclusively available this past weekend at Meridian Pint like a block from my house. Given that DC's tendency to favor crowd behavior, it was sure to be hectic there Friday when it was first available. So I had ordered a pizza from Red Rocks (in my top three for pizzas with Crossroads in Hellertown, PA and this place whose name I don't remember in Little Italy in Montreal), which is right across the street from Meridian Pint. I figured if it weren't too crowded I would grab a quick beer before I picked up the pizza. But, as expected, there was a line out the door to try a beer that would be available everywhere else in the city and even at Meridian Pint later in the weekend. But I guess you couldn't be considered as cool or tell your kids about it if you weren't there on "opening night". So, on Saturday, after a nice hookah session I convinced one of my roommates, at 2am, to go with me to Meridian Pint to try DC Brau's The Public. A few of my roommates had tried it on Friday and were not fans, but they admittedly were also not fans of hoppy beers, of which this was very much one. I don't know the difference between an America Pale Ale and an Indian Pale Ale but if you had told me this were an IPA and not an APA I would have had to believe you. But I like hops and I'm proud DC now has a brewery and getting a few more, so I enjoyed it.
Speaking of Saturday, things over which I had more/any control:
1. My good friends' girlfriends - apparently people actually read this. so theres that.
2. The economy - the answers for how to get this thing going again are out there, if only the repubies would just let the sane people govern we all would be a lot better off.
3. Getting my sister motivated to get a fucking job - my parents are enablers and my sister has no intention of ever leaving home/making money on her own.
4. My level of empathy towards certain people/situations - I wish I had a heart.
5. Who can/cannot have children - this isn't really something I personally would like to be solely in charge of, but maybe there could be a board on which I could serve.
Did you know Saturday was Record Store Day. Given DC's crowd mentality (when I eventually did go to the record store I overheard how people had camped out to get in on Saturday (are you serious DC?!)) I decided on Sunday I would go down to the record store in Adams Morgan and see what this new old craze is. But first I had to eat. So a couple weeks ago I mentioned how I was on my way to Adams Morgan to see if there were still a Vietnamese restaurant there for some pho. Well there isn't. But there are a couple old school book stores on the way. I don't know if you know this about me but I am a sucker for 19th century high society English romance novels like Jane Austen ones. Well they just came out with a new movie for Jane Eyre, so I stopped in the bookstores looking for a copy since I have never read it because Los Campesinos! told me not to and then I would go see the movie. And if there were a jesus this is how this situation would have played out:
I would have asked this little old British lady at the book store on Columbia if they had Jane Eyre and she would walk right to it and I would buy it for like $2. I would read it and enjoy it and then shortly thereafter I would head down to E Street Cinema, our local indie movie theatre, by myself and take a seat away from the other couples, because who goes to see Jane Eyre by himself, especially as a guy? Well me and this other girl do who sees me by myself and she's very pretty--no makeup or boots--and comes and sits...behind me. Then after the movie she's still by herself and she takes an immediate liking to me because I obviously have a soft side and interest in romance novels and then she's like "so did you enjoy the film?" and I say I do because it's almost impossible to do wrong in my book with a movie based on 19th century England. And then I ask her to get a drink and she says OK. And we drink good beer and talk about life and I say something rude and she tells me so and then we get married and the wedding is all on her grandparents' account because they're super wealthy and then they give us all the money.
But this is actually how it played out: I go to the bookstore on Columbia and the little British lady walks over to where the Brontes are and she says they're out of Jane Eyre because there's a movie that just came out and the other two bookstores in Adams Morgan tell me the same thing. Eventually I will find this book and read it and go to E Street and I will sit away from the other couples because no guy goes to see Jane Eyre alone and I will like it and then go home alone and no richer than when I left.
Back to the food. So I walked down 18th the length of Adams Morgan until it basically became Dupont and told myself once I realized pho was just not going to happen this weekend I would eat at the next place I saw. Well that next place was Loriol Plaza, which just so happens to be, along with things like lines waiting to get to try a beer that will be available everywhere and always a couple days later, everything that is wrong with DC--a simple idea that is blown up to the extent people wait in line to eat at an overpriced, pretentious Mexican place that is just as good as any cheap Mexican place you can eat anywhere in Mexico or at least on 14th St. in DC. Anyway, a couple doors down is a place called The Cajun Experience. Did I ever tell you about the time I went to Mardi Gras and ended up getting really drunk and hungry at this place that sold jambalaya and after I finished my bowl and everyone else's at the table because it was that good I ended up eating random people's too and upon getting out of the cab almost back at the house where we were staying I projectile vomited said jambalaya? Remind me sometime and I will. I had just told that story the night before and with New Orleans talk a craw fish boil was mentioned and how they don't have them in DC. Well the Cajun Experience place just so happens to have one every Saturday and coincidences like that make me just wonder if its jesus or chance behind things like that. The jambalaya was delicious btw.
And then I eventually made it to the record store and I had intended to ask what it is about records that they are making a comeback with indie bands now rather than people just buying digital music. But that didn't happen of course. Instead I just fingered through the records to see which all bands released their stuff on records and it was an impressive amount. Because I don't have a record player I didn't buy any to play but bought one that says "Bethlehem's Finest" on the sleeve for obvious reasons. And I plan on framing this. So there is also a frame store near the record store and asked how much it would cost. The guy said $60 so I don't know if I plan on framing it anymore.
On the way back, just to make this little time machine day of visiting things like record and book stores official, I visited a video rental store (yea, I didn't think they existed either) on Mt. Pleasant St. You know how I mentioned last week I wanted to go see another French film to verify if it is a style that I enjoy prevalent among the French or just that one director? Yea, well it was sold out, of course. So I rented a French one and two documentaries. Incidentally, if you are feeling good about life and want to be brought right back down to reality or are looking for something to make you want to kill yourself, watch Inside Job. Then walking across 16th back to the house this little edifice popped up:
This just so happens to be the DC Department of Parks and Recreation Headquarters, and I now have set up alerts for job openings at the DC Department of Parks of Recreation.
So I had called my Dad when I was near the record store to see if he still had a record player that I could use in case I wanted to hop on this bandwagon and he eventually called back and told me he had actually just gotten rid of a good one a few months earlier. Jesus. So not all coincidences work out in your favor.
Isn't this nice? I think so too:
Anyway, there were a few "noteworthy" events this weekend. Number one: DC now has its own brewery again. And it just so happens that they were making their first beer exclusively available this past weekend at Meridian Pint like a block from my house. Given that DC's tendency to favor crowd behavior, it was sure to be hectic there Friday when it was first available. So I had ordered a pizza from Red Rocks (in my top three for pizzas with Crossroads in Hellertown, PA and this place whose name I don't remember in Little Italy in Montreal), which is right across the street from Meridian Pint. I figured if it weren't too crowded I would grab a quick beer before I picked up the pizza. But, as expected, there was a line out the door to try a beer that would be available everywhere else in the city and even at Meridian Pint later in the weekend. But I guess you couldn't be considered as cool or tell your kids about it if you weren't there on "opening night". So, on Saturday, after a nice hookah session I convinced one of my roommates, at 2am, to go with me to Meridian Pint to try DC Brau's The Public. A few of my roommates had tried it on Friday and were not fans, but they admittedly were also not fans of hoppy beers, of which this was very much one. I don't know the difference between an America Pale Ale and an Indian Pale Ale but if you had told me this were an IPA and not an APA I would have had to believe you. But I like hops and I'm proud DC now has a brewery and getting a few more, so I enjoyed it.
Speaking of Saturday, things over which I had more/any control:
1. My good friends' girlfriends - apparently people actually read this. so theres that.
2. The economy - the answers for how to get this thing going again are out there, if only the repubies would just let the sane people govern we all would be a lot better off.
3. Getting my sister motivated to get a fucking job - my parents are enablers and my sister has no intention of ever leaving home/making money on her own.
4. My level of empathy towards certain people/situations - I wish I had a heart.
5. Who can/cannot have children - this isn't really something I personally would like to be solely in charge of, but maybe there could be a board on which I could serve.
Did you know Saturday was Record Store Day. Given DC's crowd mentality (when I eventually did go to the record store I overheard how people had camped out to get in on Saturday (are you serious DC?!)) I decided on Sunday I would go down to the record store in Adams Morgan and see what this new old craze is. But first I had to eat. So a couple weeks ago I mentioned how I was on my way to Adams Morgan to see if there were still a Vietnamese restaurant there for some pho. Well there isn't. But there are a couple old school book stores on the way. I don't know if you know this about me but I am a sucker for 19th century high society English romance novels like Jane Austen ones. Well they just came out with a new movie for Jane Eyre, so I stopped in the bookstores looking for a copy since I have never read it because Los Campesinos! told me not to and then I would go see the movie. And if there were a jesus this is how this situation would have played out:
I would have asked this little old British lady at the book store on Columbia if they had Jane Eyre and she would walk right to it and I would buy it for like $2. I would read it and enjoy it and then shortly thereafter I would head down to E Street Cinema, our local indie movie theatre, by myself and take a seat away from the other couples, because who goes to see Jane Eyre by himself, especially as a guy? Well me and this other girl do who sees me by myself and she's very pretty--no makeup or boots--and comes and sits...behind me. Then after the movie she's still by herself and she takes an immediate liking to me because I obviously have a soft side and interest in romance novels and then she's like "so did you enjoy the film?" and I say I do because it's almost impossible to do wrong in my book with a movie based on 19th century England. And then I ask her to get a drink and she says OK. And we drink good beer and talk about life and I say something rude and she tells me so and then we get married and the wedding is all on her grandparents' account because they're super wealthy and then they give us all the money.
But this is actually how it played out: I go to the bookstore on Columbia and the little British lady walks over to where the Brontes are and she says they're out of Jane Eyre because there's a movie that just came out and the other two bookstores in Adams Morgan tell me the same thing. Eventually I will find this book and read it and go to E Street and I will sit away from the other couples because no guy goes to see Jane Eyre alone and I will like it and then go home alone and no richer than when I left.
Back to the food. So I walked down 18th the length of Adams Morgan until it basically became Dupont and told myself once I realized pho was just not going to happen this weekend I would eat at the next place I saw. Well that next place was Loriol Plaza, which just so happens to be, along with things like lines waiting to get to try a beer that will be available everywhere and always a couple days later, everything that is wrong with DC--a simple idea that is blown up to the extent people wait in line to eat at an overpriced, pretentious Mexican place that is just as good as any cheap Mexican place you can eat anywhere in Mexico or at least on 14th St. in DC. Anyway, a couple doors down is a place called The Cajun Experience. Did I ever tell you about the time I went to Mardi Gras and ended up getting really drunk and hungry at this place that sold jambalaya and after I finished my bowl and everyone else's at the table because it was that good I ended up eating random people's too and upon getting out of the cab almost back at the house where we were staying I projectile vomited said jambalaya? Remind me sometime and I will. I had just told that story the night before and with New Orleans talk a craw fish boil was mentioned and how they don't have them in DC. Well the Cajun Experience place just so happens to have one every Saturday and coincidences like that make me just wonder if its jesus or chance behind things like that. The jambalaya was delicious btw.
And then I eventually made it to the record store and I had intended to ask what it is about records that they are making a comeback with indie bands now rather than people just buying digital music. But that didn't happen of course. Instead I just fingered through the records to see which all bands released their stuff on records and it was an impressive amount. Because I don't have a record player I didn't buy any to play but bought one that says "Bethlehem's Finest" on the sleeve for obvious reasons. And I plan on framing this. So there is also a frame store near the record store and asked how much it would cost. The guy said $60 so I don't know if I plan on framing it anymore.
On the way back, just to make this little time machine day of visiting things like record and book stores official, I visited a video rental store (yea, I didn't think they existed either) on Mt. Pleasant St. You know how I mentioned last week I wanted to go see another French film to verify if it is a style that I enjoy prevalent among the French or just that one director? Yea, well it was sold out, of course. So I rented a French one and two documentaries. Incidentally, if you are feeling good about life and want to be brought right back down to reality or are looking for something to make you want to kill yourself, watch Inside Job. Then walking across 16th back to the house this little edifice popped up:
So I had called my Dad when I was near the record store to see if he still had a record player that I could use in case I wanted to hop on this bandwagon and he eventually called back and told me he had actually just gotten rid of a good one a few months earlier. Jesus. So not all coincidences work out in your favor.
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Weekend of April 8, 2011
Do you remember how in middle school people would write in your yearbooks "Don't ever change." Geez, how myopic is that? It's like, "Oh, hey 7th grade friend, how are you doing? I am not doing very good. I have no friends because all I want to do is ride around town on my bmx bike all day and everyone my age is working and everyone that is around is like 13 years younger than me. But have you read the Twilight series? I am half way through the first book. I would probably farther but I only read at a 7th grade level because I took your advice to never change." Kids.
Anyway. I read on a level better than a 7th grader.
I think.
So on Friday I had every intention of going to see a film from the International Film Fest going on here in the city. But Joe-from-home texted and said he has Groupon vouchers to Blue Banana so he and his roommates were going to go watch a hockey game there. I had never been there, it is pretty close to my house--walking distance at least--and free drinks were offered, so yea it wasn't much of a choice. So I put on my drinking shoes because it was raining--liquid is liquid--and head on over. This was well thought out: have a few drinks early, two of which were included in the gentleman's special (shot of whiskey and a Yuengling) at the Looking Glass next door where we also got food. Then a couple beers at the other bar and head home by 10. Socializing, preparedness for the next morning/early afternoon, good beer. That's a good night.
The next morning/early afternoon was supposed to be football but apparently the league people never heard of "April showers, bring May flowers" or at least did not interpret that to mean that it's pretty much a given there will be rain in April because even though it had not been raining at game time they still canceled it due to a wet field. It rained last week too. I hope this isn't a trend.
Or do I? So other than the occasional shower, the weather is getting nicer outside (as if the weather occurs anywhere else?), meaning more people will be out and about, which in turn means I got that gym membership I have been thinking about for a while. Yup, I am serious when I say I want my pants to fit again. And while the weather gods deprived me of football I touchéd them with a little basketball. Needless to say I looked pretty near death there with my poor circulation/lack of endurance. And I was just shooting around on the side. I'm embarrassed.
I don't know where I got the idea from but I had thought I would make this a high class weekend, which began with the gentleman's special of course, and go to a play and a classical music concert. Also, this girl I work with said something to me on Thursday like "O you're one of those northwest DC people that's too cool for northeast and doesn't leave their northwest bubble" which is pretty much true (see DC map and recognize how easy it is to not leave NW since there's not much else outside of it other than National's Stadium--debatable if excursion is worth it--and stuff just east of the Capitol like Eastern Market, and there might be more but I don't pretend for a second to be open minded). Anyway, challenge accepted, coworker.
So I get on a capital bikeshare and head to H St. in NE, which, incidentally, almost exactly 53 years ago was one of the sights of the post-MLK assassination destruction (I know I site wikipedia alot but it's so easy because it's almost always the first search result), along with the neighborhood where I live now and U St. just south of me. Interesting stuff. Anyway, so the H St. Playhouse is in NE and I was going there to see a show called The Weir about people telling ghost stories in a rural bar in Ireland. On the way I passed Ledroit Park, which I had heard of but didn't know where exactly it was but it turns out Joe-from-home's gf lives right there so I had been there a few times and every time I have marveled at all the houses that look like they should be further in the South. I also, passed like 30 liquor stores. And Gallaudet University, which turns out is a legitmate college. And I got to the theatre about 2 minutes before the show was to start. H St. is further than it looks on google maps and further along in its development than I had realized. Since it's an Irish play I decide to get a Guinness, which I buy from the same table that is taking tickets. Do I tip someone in this situation? I am really thinking this one through and am quite uncomfortable about it so I decide to leave a tip just in case and don't bother to see the guy's reaction in case he's facially like "what do I look like, a bartender?" I don't know you're giving me alcohol like a bartender. Do others think like this?
So this is like the second play that I have ever seen outside of those in school growing up. Both times I have been equally marveled how these people can go along acting like there isn't a crowd full of people sitting there reacting to like everything you do, which included a spilled beer that I am not sure was part of the script, but in any case it was all even more commendable given they were drinking as if they were really in a bar too. And I was really enjoying how I would find myself forgetting it was live and not on TV because I'm a novice. And that was it for Saturday.
I don't know if you heard, but they almost shut down the federal government, which would not only include me being out of a job until they figured it out but the Smithsonian Museums a lot of other important stuff as well. On Sunday there was to be a free classical music (I don't know any better term for this genre) concert at one of the Smithsonians. But when I had to reschedule my DC Film Fest film because of Friday I was looking at what was playing on Sunday and I found one that pretty much injured two birds with one stone: a film about classical music! Mozart's Sister. So I could save money and see classical music live or I could travel to Georgetown, which you know is a treat for me, see the French Embassy, watch a DC Film Fest film, and get wine and cheese after the facts. And sleep in just a little while longer. No chance. I chose the film.
And I got to eat pho, too, per usual. And so I am at Pho Viet and soon they are not going to have to wait to take my order by start my vegetable pho as soon as I enter. And I'm sitting next to this couple trying to talk sports like amateurs ("I think this Boston-Miami game tonight is for first place in the Eastern Conference." Incorrect, noobs. Chicago already locked up first place.). And then on the way to Georgetown, which took 1.5 hours arrive at even though according to google maps is 2.9 miles/16 minutes by car but not quite by public transportation, I am sitting in front of this kid/guy, who could not have been older than 20 or 21, with a terrible voice. Now I know I have my many faults, but for some reason a voice will determine whether or not I will tolerate you as a person. And this person had no chance of being someone's presence I could stand. I would have stood up and sat somewhere else, but I didn't want to make a scene. And I am glad I didn't because in spite of how it physically sounded he said something noteworthy(...s = the person on the other line that I can't hear): "...Actually, I asked Charlene to marry me on Wednesday...I don't really see it as crazy...Why so soon? Because I can...Maybe, but I know for a fact that there cannot exist someone else that I would rather be with..." That made sense to me. But I still believe in no marriage until at least 25. And that I don't like this person because of his voice.
So I get to the embassy and the film is entertaining. It's not often I hear the harpsicord. I don't know what others thought of the film but something about it was very appealing to me. It gave me the same sensation that watching Barcelona play football does. And the color navy blue. Efficient and productive. Except they could have shown more of the French countryside and Paris. And the lead could have been less of a neutral personality. But that was probably because her dad is the director. And if the style was not just unique to this director then maybe French Films are my thing. I'm going to go check out another tomorrow to find out.
And then after getting lost in the Safeway parking garage, which I will not go into, I found myself in north Georgetown again waiting for a bus ride home. This lady, who has the look of a crazy to her with her full shopping cart of anything but groceries, sits down next to me at the stop. She asks if there is still a Starbucks on the corner down the block. I tell her I think there is. She tells me she wonders why she ever smoked. I told her I once did because I was stressed about coming back to the US without a job. She asked where I was. I said Guatemala. She asked why. I said human rights observer. She asked what I ended up doing. I said I work for the Treasury. She said I should get my CFA. I said what's that. She said Certified Financial Analyst. I asked why. She said because they make like $150K a year. Someone else came by and complained about the mess on the bench, which there was on one end. She said she wished she lived around more rich white people. I said aren't there enough rich white people in Georgetown for you. She said she wants to move back near Harvard. The other guy said to the lady that looks like quite a warm hat you have, which it did. She said its for protection as she had been attacked before and that she may look crazy but she isn't, and she didn't sound like it. Her hat was one of those big fuzzy Russian ones and she had something concealed under tin foil in it. And then the bus came.
And there is this guy sitting next to me who has been on the phone talking about slow pitch softball for like a half hour now. DC.
Anyway. I read on a level better than a 7th grader.
I think.
So on Friday I had every intention of going to see a film from the International Film Fest going on here in the city. But Joe-from-home texted and said he has Groupon vouchers to Blue Banana so he and his roommates were going to go watch a hockey game there. I had never been there, it is pretty close to my house--walking distance at least--and free drinks were offered, so yea it wasn't much of a choice. So I put on my drinking shoes because it was raining--liquid is liquid--and head on over. This was well thought out: have a few drinks early, two of which were included in the gentleman's special (shot of whiskey and a Yuengling) at the Looking Glass next door where we also got food. Then a couple beers at the other bar and head home by 10. Socializing, preparedness for the next morning/early afternoon, good beer. That's a good night.
The next morning/early afternoon was supposed to be football but apparently the league people never heard of "April showers, bring May flowers" or at least did not interpret that to mean that it's pretty much a given there will be rain in April because even though it had not been raining at game time they still canceled it due to a wet field. It rained last week too. I hope this isn't a trend.
Or do I? So other than the occasional shower, the weather is getting nicer outside (as if the weather occurs anywhere else?), meaning more people will be out and about, which in turn means I got that gym membership I have been thinking about for a while. Yup, I am serious when I say I want my pants to fit again. And while the weather gods deprived me of football I touchéd them with a little basketball. Needless to say I looked pretty near death there with my poor circulation/lack of endurance. And I was just shooting around on the side. I'm embarrassed.
I don't know where I got the idea from but I had thought I would make this a high class weekend, which began with the gentleman's special of course, and go to a play and a classical music concert. Also, this girl I work with said something to me on Thursday like "O you're one of those northwest DC people that's too cool for northeast and doesn't leave their northwest bubble" which is pretty much true (see DC map and recognize how easy it is to not leave NW since there's not much else outside of it other than National's Stadium--debatable if excursion is worth it--and stuff just east of the Capitol like Eastern Market, and there might be more but I don't pretend for a second to be open minded). Anyway, challenge accepted, coworker.
So I get on a capital bikeshare and head to H St. in NE, which, incidentally, almost exactly 53 years ago was one of the sights of the post-MLK assassination destruction (I know I site wikipedia alot but it's so easy because it's almost always the first search result), along with the neighborhood where I live now and U St. just south of me. Interesting stuff. Anyway, so the H St. Playhouse is in NE and I was going there to see a show called The Weir about people telling ghost stories in a rural bar in Ireland. On the way I passed Ledroit Park, which I had heard of but didn't know where exactly it was but it turns out Joe-from-home's gf lives right there so I had been there a few times and every time I have marveled at all the houses that look like they should be further in the South. I also, passed like 30 liquor stores. And Gallaudet University, which turns out is a legitmate college. And I got to the theatre about 2 minutes before the show was to start. H St. is further than it looks on google maps and further along in its development than I had realized. Since it's an Irish play I decide to get a Guinness, which I buy from the same table that is taking tickets. Do I tip someone in this situation? I am really thinking this one through and am quite uncomfortable about it so I decide to leave a tip just in case and don't bother to see the guy's reaction in case he's facially like "what do I look like, a bartender?" I don't know you're giving me alcohol like a bartender. Do others think like this?
So this is like the second play that I have ever seen outside of those in school growing up. Both times I have been equally marveled how these people can go along acting like there isn't a crowd full of people sitting there reacting to like everything you do, which included a spilled beer that I am not sure was part of the script, but in any case it was all even more commendable given they were drinking as if they were really in a bar too. And I was really enjoying how I would find myself forgetting it was live and not on TV because I'm a novice. And that was it for Saturday.
I don't know if you heard, but they almost shut down the federal government, which would not only include me being out of a job until they figured it out but the Smithsonian Museums a lot of other important stuff as well. On Sunday there was to be a free classical music (I don't know any better term for this genre) concert at one of the Smithsonians. But when I had to reschedule my DC Film Fest film because of Friday I was looking at what was playing on Sunday and I found one that pretty much injured two birds with one stone: a film about classical music! Mozart's Sister. So I could save money and see classical music live or I could travel to Georgetown, which you know is a treat for me, see the French Embassy, watch a DC Film Fest film, and get wine and cheese after the facts. And sleep in just a little while longer. No chance. I chose the film.
And I got to eat pho, too, per usual. And so I am at Pho Viet and soon they are not going to have to wait to take my order by start my vegetable pho as soon as I enter. And I'm sitting next to this couple trying to talk sports like amateurs ("I think this Boston-Miami game tonight is for first place in the Eastern Conference." Incorrect, noobs. Chicago already locked up first place.). And then on the way to Georgetown, which took 1.5 hours arrive at even though according to google maps is 2.9 miles/16 minutes by car but not quite by public transportation, I am sitting in front of this kid/guy, who could not have been older than 20 or 21, with a terrible voice. Now I know I have my many faults, but for some reason a voice will determine whether or not I will tolerate you as a person. And this person had no chance of being someone's presence I could stand. I would have stood up and sat somewhere else, but I didn't want to make a scene. And I am glad I didn't because in spite of how it physically sounded he said something noteworthy(...s = the person on the other line that I can't hear): "...Actually, I asked Charlene to marry me on Wednesday...I don't really see it as crazy...Why so soon? Because I can...Maybe, but I know for a fact that there cannot exist someone else that I would rather be with..." That made sense to me. But I still believe in no marriage until at least 25. And that I don't like this person because of his voice.
So I get to the embassy and the film is entertaining. It's not often I hear the harpsicord. I don't know what others thought of the film but something about it was very appealing to me. It gave me the same sensation that watching Barcelona play football does. And the color navy blue. Efficient and productive. Except they could have shown more of the French countryside and Paris. And the lead could have been less of a neutral personality. But that was probably because her dad is the director. And if the style was not just unique to this director then maybe French Films are my thing. I'm going to go check out another tomorrow to find out.
And then after getting lost in the Safeway parking garage, which I will not go into, I found myself in north Georgetown again waiting for a bus ride home. This lady, who has the look of a crazy to her with her full shopping cart of anything but groceries, sits down next to me at the stop. She asks if there is still a Starbucks on the corner down the block. I tell her I think there is. She tells me she wonders why she ever smoked. I told her I once did because I was stressed about coming back to the US without a job. She asked where I was. I said Guatemala. She asked why. I said human rights observer. She asked what I ended up doing. I said I work for the Treasury. She said I should get my CFA. I said what's that. She said Certified Financial Analyst. I asked why. She said because they make like $150K a year. Someone else came by and complained about the mess on the bench, which there was on one end. She said she wished she lived around more rich white people. I said aren't there enough rich white people in Georgetown for you. She said she wants to move back near Harvard. The other guy said to the lady that looks like quite a warm hat you have, which it did. She said its for protection as she had been attacked before and that she may look crazy but she isn't, and she didn't sound like it. Her hat was one of those big fuzzy Russian ones and she had something concealed under tin foil in it. And then the bus came.
And there is this guy sitting next to me who has been on the phone talking about slow pitch softball for like a half hour now. DC.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
The Long April 1 Weekend
Do you know the etymology of the word curmudgeon? Do you know what etymology means?
Second things first. Etymology is basically the origin of words. Unfortunately, the etymology for curmudgeon is pretty much unknown. I just have been throwing this insult around at people recently and I would like to know where it came from. I once read something that it had something to do with a dog (cur).
Is it digressing if you never got to the point in the first place? I didn't know how to start this one so I'll just go with the beginning.
After work on Friday I went to pick up my new contacts for next year. The prospect of what those contacts will see is overwhelmingly exciting, if I were capable of getting that excited.
I volunteered to hand in the rent check this month so I bussed it from Farragut to north Georgetown. Georgetown is what it is but north Georgetown is a lot what it was, which is nice--until you get north of north Georgetown--because it has things like Holy Rood Cemetery where I am sure someone significant is buried. Not that there are insignificant people, but you know what I mean.
So I got back on the bus and kept on riding up Wisconsin until I hit a metro stop, which happened to be the Tenleytown one. I got off and walked in circles thinking what I was going to do then as it I didn't really want to just get on the metro home but wanted to figure something out quick because people in the restaurant right there probably perceived me as they would a lost dog, just less cutey.
There were bikes from the Capital Bikeshare right there so I got one and headed east hoping I would eventually hit a road that I would know to take back to my house. I don't know the last time I rode a bike. Do you? Well there are reasons I don't operate vehicles of any kind. My head is constantly on a swivel, which if I were a football linebacker would be a good thing, but when in a one ton piece of metal or on the road with said pieces of metal, lives are in danger. So, obviously, I rely on public transport now. I rode through Rock Creek Park and came across this building, which left me speechless. But there was no one there so I wasn't really talking in the first place.
Eventually I ended up on Park Road, which, incidentally not ironically, is pretty much the street on which I live. So that worked out. I got home, the roommates were grilling out and going out but I went to bed not to much later because...
Saturday was our first touch football game. Background: I can do one thing well in life and that is throw things. I played baseball down here a couple summers ago and we had only two decent pitchers so I pretty much ruined my shoulder throwing too much, or at least I thought I had. I hadn't thrown a football in a while so I just assumed it was still hurt. It isn't. So I have that going for me and now I can look forward to throwing things with my kids. Short story short: we sucked and got dominated in the rain-drenched game. But it was a great accomplishment being that productive that early on a Saturday.
People I know went to the bar for the Final Four games but my aversion to crowds and my lack of awakeness kept me on the couch for them. Post games we decided to do a Mt. Pleasant bar crawl. Do you remember my rant about how it's impossible to find a bar in DC where you can sit down without having to get there at like 4pm? Well I was wrong. The answer to the riddle was Mt. Pleasant, which just so happens to be relatively close to my house. And I have a new-found infatuation with DC with the lack of people in the bars in Mt. Pleasant (this one actually is not Mt. Pleasant but on 14th but we stopped there nonetheless) and the awesomeness of the architecture (not a good picture, I know, but just cruise down the Google Street and check hopefully you'll get the idea) on my Friday happy hour bike ride home.
We were hungry so we stopped in the 7-11. The others got taquitos. I got gummy blue sharks, crab chips, and japeno pistachios, naturally, and we called it a night. This actually might have happened before the last bar, but what's important is that it happened.
On the way home on Park Road this lady stepped out from a house and my intoxicated friend said "ooo a party?" She invited us in and someone, not me, asked if there was booze. She said no and was like "what a party is only worth it if there's alcohol?" She was looking right at me when she said it (I must have that look) and I said I didn't say it but was thinking "Lady, I need to be socially lubricated quite sufficiently if I am stepping into a stranger's house where I do not know anyone." My one friend disappeared inside and the rest of us followed about a minute later because I had to go to the bathroom. We found him around the keg because that lady was a liar. Later though she and I almost bonded over an improperly weighted hula hoop. People were dancing ironically to Jay-Z and conversing about things like the dark novels of the Brontes. I couldn't decide if that was the type of crowd I would like to have as my own. In any case, as is usually the case, we left after we finished our beers.
Have you ever seen the recent hit Leonardo DiCaprio film, Inception? The suburbs of DC are a lot like the dream city that Leo's character creates in his mind with its entirely inorganically sprouted high rise buildings centered on nothing in particular. The location I am referencing is that right off of the Eisenhower Ave metro stop, where I ended up to see the current Jake Gyllenhaal psychological thriller, Source Code.
I have this mentee, and by mentee, I mean a high school senior that needed a mentor to be eligible for this scholars program at his school and I needed some interaction with people outside of my normal group to experience something different so I volunteered to be a mentor. I really have nothing to offer him because he is pretty mature and level-headed and, honestly, he probably provides me more than I him as some of the better conversations I have are when we meet up. Anyway, this month we met up at the movies. I don't know enough about the logistics of time travel, but I won't pass judgement on Source Code until I do as I was pretty preoccupied with its incongruities (do you like that word as much as I do?).
I have off every other Monday because I work 36 hours one week and 44 the other in a two week pay period to make 80 with one day off. Yesterday was that day. I scheduled a dentist appointment, or at least I thought I had. The secretary at the dentist said it was for tomorrow. Whatev. I wasn't really feeling into being tortured dentally then anyway. On my way back I overheard a kid ask what I assume was his grandfather what his favorite color is. He said the shade of gray that oranges are. The kid said oranges aren't gray and the grandfather said he was colorblind so everything is gray to him. Classic. So that was worth it.
Then I went grocery shopping. Then I went to read at Sticky Fingers a couple blocks from my house, which is a vegan bakery and won Cupcake Wars on TV recently. I had a peanut butter fudge one and, well, I don't really know what goes into a non-vegan cupcake but it was as delicious as a normal one. I had asked my roommate Alexander Rud and my other roommates if they wanted to have a beer at Bier Baron, which was Brickskeller and pretty much still is except the beer menu is laminated now, after work. Only Rud agreed so I Capital Bikeshared it again on over to Dupont because it was like 80 degrees out and while my destination was a low-lit basement, at least I would be enjoying the weather on the way. They have happy hour mystery beers for a very reasonable $3 where they wrap up random beers in paper with '?'s. I got a Full Sail IPA, which I had had once in Portland, and it was as delectable in a bottle 3000 miles away from its source as it was on tap at its source. Rud got a Becks. Sucker. We conversed about things like our dream jobs, which was actually the second time this came up for me this weekend, and both times I realized my dream job would be having a phantom source of income that allowed me to not work at all but read and write and volunteer and sleep all day and hang out with friends, which is a lot like my time spent in Guatemala so I know it works. People say they couldn't handle not having a job. I am not one of those people. Rud said having a brew pub. I would want to be "dream unemployed" near that.
Anyway, we got back and had a good hookah session with all the roommates on the deck before the hideous disappointment that was the national championship game.
Second things first. Etymology is basically the origin of words. Unfortunately, the etymology for curmudgeon is pretty much unknown. I just have been throwing this insult around at people recently and I would like to know where it came from. I once read something that it had something to do with a dog (cur).
Is it digressing if you never got to the point in the first place? I didn't know how to start this one so I'll just go with the beginning.
After work on Friday I went to pick up my new contacts for next year. The prospect of what those contacts will see is overwhelmingly exciting, if I were capable of getting that excited.
I volunteered to hand in the rent check this month so I bussed it from Farragut to north Georgetown. Georgetown is what it is but north Georgetown is a lot what it was, which is nice--until you get north of north Georgetown--because it has things like Holy Rood Cemetery where I am sure someone significant is buried. Not that there are insignificant people, but you know what I mean.
So I got back on the bus and kept on riding up Wisconsin until I hit a metro stop, which happened to be the Tenleytown one. I got off and walked in circles thinking what I was going to do then as it I didn't really want to just get on the metro home but wanted to figure something out quick because people in the restaurant right there probably perceived me as they would a lost dog, just less cutey.
There were bikes from the Capital Bikeshare right there so I got one and headed east hoping I would eventually hit a road that I would know to take back to my house. I don't know the last time I rode a bike. Do you? Well there are reasons I don't operate vehicles of any kind. My head is constantly on a swivel, which if I were a football linebacker would be a good thing, but when in a one ton piece of metal or on the road with said pieces of metal, lives are in danger. So, obviously, I rely on public transport now. I rode through Rock Creek Park and came across this building, which left me speechless. But there was no one there so I wasn't really talking in the first place.
Eventually I ended up on Park Road, which, incidentally not ironically, is pretty much the street on which I live. So that worked out. I got home, the roommates were grilling out and going out but I went to bed not to much later because...
Saturday was our first touch football game. Background: I can do one thing well in life and that is throw things. I played baseball down here a couple summers ago and we had only two decent pitchers so I pretty much ruined my shoulder throwing too much, or at least I thought I had. I hadn't thrown a football in a while so I just assumed it was still hurt. It isn't. So I have that going for me and now I can look forward to throwing things with my kids. Short story short: we sucked and got dominated in the rain-drenched game. But it was a great accomplishment being that productive that early on a Saturday.
People I know went to the bar for the Final Four games but my aversion to crowds and my lack of awakeness kept me on the couch for them. Post games we decided to do a Mt. Pleasant bar crawl. Do you remember my rant about how it's impossible to find a bar in DC where you can sit down without having to get there at like 4pm? Well I was wrong. The answer to the riddle was Mt. Pleasant, which just so happens to be relatively close to my house. And I have a new-found infatuation with DC with the lack of people in the bars in Mt. Pleasant (this one actually is not Mt. Pleasant but on 14th but we stopped there nonetheless) and the awesomeness of the architecture (not a good picture, I know, but just cruise down the Google Street and check hopefully you'll get the idea) on my Friday happy hour bike ride home.
We were hungry so we stopped in the 7-11. The others got taquitos. I got gummy blue sharks, crab chips, and japeno pistachios, naturally, and we called it a night. This actually might have happened before the last bar, but what's important is that it happened.
On the way home on Park Road this lady stepped out from a house and my intoxicated friend said "ooo a party?" She invited us in and someone, not me, asked if there was booze. She said no and was like "what a party is only worth it if there's alcohol?" She was looking right at me when she said it (I must have that look) and I said I didn't say it but was thinking "Lady, I need to be socially lubricated quite sufficiently if I am stepping into a stranger's house where I do not know anyone." My one friend disappeared inside and the rest of us followed about a minute later because I had to go to the bathroom. We found him around the keg because that lady was a liar. Later though she and I almost bonded over an improperly weighted hula hoop. People were dancing ironically to Jay-Z and conversing about things like the dark novels of the Brontes. I couldn't decide if that was the type of crowd I would like to have as my own. In any case, as is usually the case, we left after we finished our beers.
Have you ever seen the recent hit Leonardo DiCaprio film, Inception? The suburbs of DC are a lot like the dream city that Leo's character creates in his mind with its entirely inorganically sprouted high rise buildings centered on nothing in particular. The location I am referencing is that right off of the Eisenhower Ave metro stop, where I ended up to see the current Jake Gyllenhaal psychological thriller, Source Code.
I have this mentee, and by mentee, I mean a high school senior that needed a mentor to be eligible for this scholars program at his school and I needed some interaction with people outside of my normal group to experience something different so I volunteered to be a mentor. I really have nothing to offer him because he is pretty mature and level-headed and, honestly, he probably provides me more than I him as some of the better conversations I have are when we meet up. Anyway, this month we met up at the movies. I don't know enough about the logistics of time travel, but I won't pass judgement on Source Code until I do as I was pretty preoccupied with its incongruities (do you like that word as much as I do?).
I have off every other Monday because I work 36 hours one week and 44 the other in a two week pay period to make 80 with one day off. Yesterday was that day. I scheduled a dentist appointment, or at least I thought I had. The secretary at the dentist said it was for tomorrow. Whatev. I wasn't really feeling into being tortured dentally then anyway. On my way back I overheard a kid ask what I assume was his grandfather what his favorite color is. He said the shade of gray that oranges are. The kid said oranges aren't gray and the grandfather said he was colorblind so everything is gray to him. Classic. So that was worth it.
Then I went grocery shopping. Then I went to read at Sticky Fingers a couple blocks from my house, which is a vegan bakery and won Cupcake Wars on TV recently. I had a peanut butter fudge one and, well, I don't really know what goes into a non-vegan cupcake but it was as delicious as a normal one. I had asked my roommate Alexander Rud and my other roommates if they wanted to have a beer at Bier Baron, which was Brickskeller and pretty much still is except the beer menu is laminated now, after work. Only Rud agreed so I Capital Bikeshared it again on over to Dupont because it was like 80 degrees out and while my destination was a low-lit basement, at least I would be enjoying the weather on the way. They have happy hour mystery beers for a very reasonable $3 where they wrap up random beers in paper with '?'s. I got a Full Sail IPA, which I had had once in Portland, and it was as delectable in a bottle 3000 miles away from its source as it was on tap at its source. Rud got a Becks. Sucker. We conversed about things like our dream jobs, which was actually the second time this came up for me this weekend, and both times I realized my dream job would be having a phantom source of income that allowed me to not work at all but read and write and volunteer and sleep all day and hang out with friends, which is a lot like my time spent in Guatemala so I know it works. People say they couldn't handle not having a job. I am not one of those people. Rud said having a brew pub. I would want to be "dream unemployed" near that.
Anyway, we got back and had a good hookah session with all the roommates on the deck before the hideous disappointment that was the national championship game.
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