Have you ever seen the movie "Scott Pilgram vs. The World?" Did you like it? I couldn't decide at first, but I think I really do upon further reflection.
Anyway, that is how the weekend ended. Let's talk about how it passed before then:
So, normally I have thought out in advance some things to write about during the weekend that I actually end up writing about, but this weekend there weren't any real moments that I was like "oh yea I am going to make this little occurrence here sound real interesting for all my dear readers of my weblog to make it sound like I am more interesting that I am"; hence, the not writing until Wednesday. Also, there was me being really lazy on my Monday off and busyness yesterday. But over the weekend, other than the one time my sister asked if I was going to write a favorable blog post of my weekend in Bloomsburg, PA (we'll see, Les, I haven't decided yet), there really weren't any really blogworthy epiphany moments. Now that is not to say this past weekend wasn't fun or eventful. It was quite so. But it probably had to do with all the new human interaction with my sister's friends that is such a foreign concept to me here in the city about 100 times larger than there and kept me out of my own head thinking about things like how am I going to portray this weekend on the internet. Human interaction is fun. And I know that contradicts the underlying message in just about every post I have had here, but most human interaction involves small talk or awkward introductions and that is what I try to avoid because I am not comfortable with pretending to care to partake in small talk. But when alcohol is involved I usually get sufficiently socially lubricated that I come to resemble a social being. And there was a lot of the drinking up there in the Bloomsburg this weekend.
Oh, you don't know where Bloomsburg, PA is or why I would go there? Yeah, me neither. JK. My sister lives there and it is here in the center of PA:
View Larger Map
I hadn't been up there since her graduation and that was only for like a few hours. She had come visit me in all my awesome habitations over the years, so I thought I'd return the favor. But, really, she had told me that Bloomsburg now has a couple brewpubs so I was sold.
OK, let's talk about Friday and the size of the world. So, I rent a car here in DC and pretty much just follow a river for a few hours and end up in Bloomsburg at like 10pm. Agenda item #1: the Turkey Hill Inn brewery/restaurant. I know what you're thinking: "Jeff, how did you know about a brewpub in little ole Bloomsburg, PA?" No, you wouldn't be thinking that because you would just assume my sister that lives there would have told me. Well, she did. But not after an ex-gf of mine was like I have a cousin/uncle figure that is opening a brewpub in Bloomsburg. "What?! I have a sister that lives there!" There that covers the size of the world topic: it is small. So, we went to this brewpub and had some tasty little beers, the best of which was the IPA, FYI. Then we went to another bar in town and had some beers that were way more expensive than I ever imagined paying for a beer in central PA (I had no intention of paying more than like $2.50), but I was on vacation so I splurged.
And there went Friday. Here comes Saturday:
I was a little hungover so I detoxed with a shower, coffee, and Excedrin because we had a full day ahead of us...to drink. First was the Central Pennsylvania Wine Festival. Luckily the wine tastings were less than sip size so things didn't get out of control. They also had craft beer/art version people there too, so we mixed in a little of that. One of craft arts people there had these santa claus decorated wine bottles with christmas lights, which I thought my mom would like, so since my mom was getting knee surgery this week I thought it would be nice to get one for her, you know, for "get well soon" reasons. But I didn't have any cash. So here's what the lady tells me: "Oh well just send me a check when you get home." What!? That's crazy. Who does that?
Anyway, that reminds me: I need to send these people a check. So if you are need of some wood carved stuff please buy from those nice people.
So for dinner we decided to eat at the other Bloomsburg brewpub, Marley's. That didn't help the exhaustion factor/chances for continuing the weekend long binge. When I think of college towns, which Bloomsburg very much is, I think of pub crawls. So I proposed one for my trip there. Marley's was supposed to be the first stop on the crawlage but continuing the drinking immediately thereafter was an impossibility. So we took a break from the drink for a little before heading back out.
I don't remember the actual names of the places we went to so I will name them myself. First one was "standard all encompassing college bar complete with tiki bar, karaoke machine, and impossibly cheap beer bar." After a bucket of PA's finest, Yuengling, we were moving on.
Next was "hole in the wall with, in all probability, more mice than people bar." Classic dive bar.
Next is where things get classy. We'll call this one "oh so you want to dance and be fancy in central pa well we have that for you/oh wait you want a more well lit sports themed establishment well we have that for you too right down those stairs bar." So my hosts designated getting shots at the least favorable place and this one was the winner.
But I would have preferred the shot to be at the next bar. Well, we did actually take a shot here too, but we stayed for a few minutes more than ideal at what I will call "i know it looks like we are the type of place that has a date rape drug dispenser in the guys bathroom but you would be mistaken; however, just ask that guy over there he probably has some, and yea we did used to be a movie theater bar." Yeah, that is pretty much the definition of a bar that I would feel quite good about never experiencing. I mean this town is almost completely deserted in the summer but with how many people were at this bar you would think it was homecoming weekend. Glad that ended peacefully.
We ended at "the go-to bar with impressive beer selection and just as good food selection as was discovered the next afternoon bar." But that did not end the night. Oh no, this drink-my-way-through-bloomsburg weekend was not over. Back at my sister's drinking games commenced and continued until the sun came up and the gas station down the street closed and thus eliminated the chance for an easy bake pizza.
Given the fun, good beer, and pretty houses it would be hard for me to not write favorably of Bloomsburg, even though it pains me to. I mean I couldn't live there now, but in college or upon retirement I'm sure I could.
But if you do ever travel to Bloomsburg, please take the time to figure out why there are so many awesomely large houses and update the wikipedia page for me because I am quite curious and right now the page is inadequate. Thanks.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Golf Weekend 2011
So I didn't receive any calls yesterday wishing me a happy fathers' day, fortunately. Or unfortunately? Maybe my illegitimate children just don't have my phone number. Leave a comment below, illegitimate children/mother of my illegitmate children, letting me know if that's that case. No. Don't do that. That's too public/digital of a reunion. Friend me on facebook first and let me judge you and determine if I want to be a part of your life.
Anyway.
Let's go through my thought process to see how Thursday night turned out how it did: Not sure how it started but I was thinking about Chicago hotdogs. I was wondering if people in Chicago actually eat them often or if they're more of a tourist novelty. Then I was trying to think of something similar in DC. I thought of Ben's Chili Bowl. I have only been to Ben's like twice but it is quite popular with the tourists. I really like Ben's so when the plan of action for Thursday night was discussed I proposed going there late night. Well, a few beers and games of pool later it is 2am and time to get a half-smoke and chili cheese fries down on U St. So my only willing roommate and I hop on some bikes--one sans pedals, the other a bikesharey--and get down there sure that it is open very late all nights of the week as we have been there quite late on the weekend. Well, we're wrong and the worker guy literally locks the door in my face. (In situations like this do you automatically retrace recent events to calculate what you could have done differently in order to arrive there a minute or two earlier? I do. Most of the time though it's when I get to the bottom of the stairs in the Metro and the train is pulling away.) What are we to do now? Chinatown. There is a 100% chance it's open so we take that chance and ride on down there, gorge ourselves on overpriced, delectable chinese food, and face the reality that home is a couple miles (uphill) away. And a moderately harsh truth it was.
Have you ever been in DC around Metro Center literally the only people on the streets or anywhere in sight for that matter? Probably not because I didn't see you there. That was neat.
Luckily, I had taken off the next day because my father was coming into town for us to attend the 111th United States Open Championship of golf being held up in Bethesda, MD over the weekend.
So that partially explains the title of this here posty. The other part is explained by the golf that was played by us, rather than watching others, on Friday. So that happened and I got tanner. BTW Radius pizza in Mt. Pleasant is pretty good in case you're in the neighborhood and looking for something tasty to eat. Incidentally, if you're in the neighborhood and do not tell me, please do not come back to this weblog as you are not welcome because that is just rude.
So Saturday I received almost the last of my Christmas presents (my sister got me a beer of the month thing that concludes in July, so I have that to look forward to). We woke up relatively early to head on up to Congressional Country Club to watch professional golfers do their job. And I now understand the logic in granting countries without a large soccer watching population the right to host the World Cup as being so close to people of that extreme level of expertise really piques the interest of a novice to that event. I now have a much larger appreciation for professional golf and want to go out and play more than I previously had a desire to (until I go out there and suck horribly and wonder why I can't do what they make look so easy, of course).
Also, not sure how I became so introverted given how extroverted my father is? Pretty much everyone, including complete strangers, enjoys his company, while I enjoy the company of about 6 total people on the planet earth. What happened in those there 80s when I was being shaped into a human being?
Sunday was a blank slate and here is how I planned to mark it up and how it actually turned out:
1. Catch up on reading the news sources from the past few days: I read the Sunday Washington Post on a Sunday for one of the few times ever and I am up to date on the going ons in the world, while cutting my losses in those sources that it was too overwhelming to catch up on (Economist). (Is it like a pre-requisite to be an extraordinarily odd looking human being to ruthlessly hold on to an Arabic dictatorship?; see Gadaffi, Muammar and Assad, Bashar.)
2. Call my friend whose birthday is the day after Sunday (today): does it make me a bad person that I did not find the time to do this? Or just a procrastinator? Or just someone being cliche and wishing her a happy birthday on her actual birthday?Anyway, happy birthday, Beth!
3. Work-out: pants fitting a little more snug than what is ideal. So it was nice to get to the gym for the first time in a about 10 days while also advancing in Jane Eyre (Mr. Rochester, you bastard, how could you do that to sweet, innocent Jane?). Thank you elliptical machine.
4. Write more in the writing project I have undertaken: a full night's sleep and coffee put me in too good a mood to write what I wanted to write. The new Bon Iver album comes out tomorrow so I will just download that sometime and play that on repeat with a youtube video of people crying as well to get me in the mood and crank out the depressing literature I have in mind.
5. Watch the final round of the U.S. Open: having to watch TV on the programmers' schedule before the days of the DVR must have sucked. Watching taped programming on the VCR was never really a desirable option either.
6. Eat a the Green Olive chinese buffet in Alexandria: If the coffee, working out, and abundance of sleep didn't have me in a good enough mood, the buffet outfitted with myriad chinese dishes, a sushi bar, and hibachi grill just set me over the top. It was a half hour trip to get there and it was worth every moment. I haven't been that happy in a while. And, in the process, I realized I was an event to make me feel I have lost control or bout of depression away from becoming an obese person based on the fact that food=happiness for me. You win, vast quantities of food for one moderately low price. I was even wishing at one point I were a very large person with a congruently large stomach to take maximum advantage of the buffet. Hence, the gym membership.
Overall, Sunday--and the weekend as a whole--was a large success.
One of these days I am going to leave the house to go do touristy things like I had originally intended with this weblog.
But hey, let me ask you a question: Should you wake a homeless person you fear may no longer be breathing even if it turns out they are just sleeping and you are left with that situation? I mean homeless people seem to be willing to sleep anywhere, so that could become a burdensome venture given the chances they are not dead and their propensity to appear so. At the same time, I don't really want to be the part of the answer to: A homeless person died on the sidewalk as many people walked by, why did no one stop to see if he was OK? Because he seemed to be asleep by the time I walked by. I didn't see any sort of struggle or anything. I don't know, I am a terrible, selfish, awkward person not wanting to explain why I am staring at the homeless guy on the sidewalk to passerbys or said homeless man when he awakes from the shadow I have cast while standing over him looking for signs of breathing.
Society should not be forced into these types of deliberations every time they see an unkempt person sleeping soundly in a place those of us with beds think is not possible to sleep soundly. I need a new job.
Anyway.
Let's go through my thought process to see how Thursday night turned out how it did: Not sure how it started but I was thinking about Chicago hotdogs. I was wondering if people in Chicago actually eat them often or if they're more of a tourist novelty. Then I was trying to think of something similar in DC. I thought of Ben's Chili Bowl. I have only been to Ben's like twice but it is quite popular with the tourists. I really like Ben's so when the plan of action for Thursday night was discussed I proposed going there late night. Well, a few beers and games of pool later it is 2am and time to get a half-smoke and chili cheese fries down on U St. So my only willing roommate and I hop on some bikes--one sans pedals, the other a bikesharey--and get down there sure that it is open very late all nights of the week as we have been there quite late on the weekend. Well, we're wrong and the worker guy literally locks the door in my face. (In situations like this do you automatically retrace recent events to calculate what you could have done differently in order to arrive there a minute or two earlier? I do. Most of the time though it's when I get to the bottom of the stairs in the Metro and the train is pulling away.) What are we to do now? Chinatown. There is a 100% chance it's open so we take that chance and ride on down there, gorge ourselves on overpriced, delectable chinese food, and face the reality that home is a couple miles (uphill) away. And a moderately harsh truth it was.
Have you ever been in DC around Metro Center literally the only people on the streets or anywhere in sight for that matter? Probably not because I didn't see you there. That was neat.
Luckily, I had taken off the next day because my father was coming into town for us to attend the 111th United States Open Championship of golf being held up in Bethesda, MD over the weekend.
So that partially explains the title of this here posty. The other part is explained by the golf that was played by us, rather than watching others, on Friday. So that happened and I got tanner. BTW Radius pizza in Mt. Pleasant is pretty good in case you're in the neighborhood and looking for something tasty to eat. Incidentally, if you're in the neighborhood and do not tell me, please do not come back to this weblog as you are not welcome because that is just rude.
So Saturday I received almost the last of my Christmas presents (my sister got me a beer of the month thing that concludes in July, so I have that to look forward to). We woke up relatively early to head on up to Congressional Country Club to watch professional golfers do their job. And I now understand the logic in granting countries without a large soccer watching population the right to host the World Cup as being so close to people of that extreme level of expertise really piques the interest of a novice to that event. I now have a much larger appreciation for professional golf and want to go out and play more than I previously had a desire to (until I go out there and suck horribly and wonder why I can't do what they make look so easy, of course).
Also, not sure how I became so introverted given how extroverted my father is? Pretty much everyone, including complete strangers, enjoys his company, while I enjoy the company of about 6 total people on the planet earth. What happened in those there 80s when I was being shaped into a human being?
Sunday was a blank slate and here is how I planned to mark it up and how it actually turned out:
1. Catch up on reading the news sources from the past few days: I read the Sunday Washington Post on a Sunday for one of the few times ever and I am up to date on the going ons in the world, while cutting my losses in those sources that it was too overwhelming to catch up on (Economist). (Is it like a pre-requisite to be an extraordinarily odd looking human being to ruthlessly hold on to an Arabic dictatorship?; see Gadaffi, Muammar and Assad, Bashar.)
2. Call my friend whose birthday is the day after Sunday (today): does it make me a bad person that I did not find the time to do this? Or just a procrastinator? Or just someone being cliche and wishing her a happy birthday on her actual birthday?Anyway, happy birthday, Beth!
3. Work-out: pants fitting a little more snug than what is ideal. So it was nice to get to the gym for the first time in a about 10 days while also advancing in Jane Eyre (Mr. Rochester, you bastard, how could you do that to sweet, innocent Jane?). Thank you elliptical machine.
4. Write more in the writing project I have undertaken: a full night's sleep and coffee put me in too good a mood to write what I wanted to write. The new Bon Iver album comes out tomorrow so I will just download that sometime and play that on repeat with a youtube video of people crying as well to get me in the mood and crank out the depressing literature I have in mind.
5. Watch the final round of the U.S. Open: having to watch TV on the programmers' schedule before the days of the DVR must have sucked. Watching taped programming on the VCR was never really a desirable option either.
6. Eat a the Green Olive chinese buffet in Alexandria: If the coffee, working out, and abundance of sleep didn't have me in a good enough mood, the buffet outfitted with myriad chinese dishes, a sushi bar, and hibachi grill just set me over the top. It was a half hour trip to get there and it was worth every moment. I haven't been that happy in a while. And, in the process, I realized I was an event to make me feel I have lost control or bout of depression away from becoming an obese person based on the fact that food=happiness for me. You win, vast quantities of food for one moderately low price. I was even wishing at one point I were a very large person with a congruently large stomach to take maximum advantage of the buffet. Hence, the gym membership.
Overall, Sunday--and the weekend as a whole--was a large success.
One of these days I am going to leave the house to go do touristy things like I had originally intended with this weblog.
But hey, let me ask you a question: Should you wake a homeless person you fear may no longer be breathing even if it turns out they are just sleeping and you are left with that situation? I mean homeless people seem to be willing to sleep anywhere, so that could become a burdensome venture given the chances they are not dead and their propensity to appear so. At the same time, I don't really want to be the part of the answer to: A homeless person died on the sidewalk as many people walked by, why did no one stop to see if he was OK? Because he seemed to be asleep by the time I walked by. I didn't see any sort of struggle or anything. I don't know, I am a terrible, selfish, awkward person not wanting to explain why I am staring at the homeless guy on the sidewalk to passerbys or said homeless man when he awakes from the shadow I have cast while standing over him looking for signs of breathing.
Society should not be forced into these types of deliberations every time they see an unkempt person sleeping soundly in a place those of us with beds think is not possible to sleep soundly. I need a new job.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
This Past Weekend 2011
I know there are some people out there that are like "Ooo, yeah, tell me about your dream. That is something that is interesting to me." And I know some people that are like "I do not care what you dreamt about. Why are you telling me this? This has nothing to do with absolutely anything." Well, in any case, I am going to tell you about this dream I had this weekend, dear reader, because: 1. I don't care if you like to hear about peoples' dreams or not because 2. again, this little bloggy here is about me not you; and 3. because not much happened this weekend and if I didn't write anything that would compound on the worthlessness I felt most of this past weekend just sitting around. Why did I not do anything this weekend, you ask, you inquisitive little reader you? Well, here is why: A. plans I did have fell through and B. the previous few and next few weekends are going to be relatively eventful (3 straight weekends in PA coming up!) so when I did realize I was acting quite unblog-worthy I just shrugged that off and thought about the weekends book-ending this past one.
Now, I know what you're thinking: wasn't there some mention of a dream you had? Yeah, actually I just mentioned it in the previous paragraph. Thanks for reminding me.
Dream (summary): I am sitting somewhere (can't remember) chewing the fat with Bill fucking Gates talking about the public interest law scholarship his dad has at the University of Washington law school. He was asking me questions, quite sassily I remember, like what was the scholarship called and what do you have to do for it. I remember responding by saying something like I am pretty sure it is named after your dad Billy jr. (actually Gates Public Service Law Scholars). (Side bar: I really want that scholarship. In addition to my chances of getting it being like 0% and therefore have to pay full tuition because I am sure, compared to the standard UW Law applicant that is most likely very liberal and resumely versed in the public interest field, I look like a right wing public interest amateur, I do not know if I would go out there so far away from "home". Here is why: if, by very small chance, I find a lady to impregnate and consequently make my parents grandparents, these offspring of mine might be the only grandkids my mom gets to play with because there is an even smaller chance my sisters succeed as well (sorry sisters--it's not our fault, though. mother and father withheld affection from us growing up so we have them to blame for our relationship incompetence. I mean, it certainly isn't my fault I flinch at the touch, no matter how gentle, of another human being. Just kidding. Maybe). I don't want to deny my mom access to these, possibly only, grandkids to which she is so looking forward. So University of Washington Law School determiner of who gets the Bill Gates's Dad Public Interest Scholarship, if you are reading, and I am sure you are, know that because of my affectionless childhood there is a good chance I will be married exclusively to my job, which, ideally, will be a public interest lawyer, so your scholarship will not be granted in vain. You can just paste my acceptance in the comments below for expeditiousness's sake if you would like.)
That's it. Was it worth your time reading about it, or even me writing it? Probably not. <--Check that. Definitely not. But it happened and since everything happens for a reason let's just hope for the best.
What did I really do? Friday I was tired so nothing other than watch the NHL Stanley Cup Finals hockey game and X-Men Origins because Saturday I went to Friendship Heights--an area of DC that is basically an outdoor high-end mall in which I felt more uncomfortable than I would had I been walking around the sketchiest of neighborhoods in the city. But that is probably because I am from Hellertown and am gangster like that. I have uncharacteristically digressed. I meant to finish the Friendship Heights sentence with "and saw the new X Men movie with my mentee/high school friend." Really the two movies were not related but just coincidental that I watched the one on Friday while planning on going on Saturday to the new one. As for Saturday night, yeah, I didn't really do anything either.
Then Sunday. Oh day of rest how you surprise me sometimes. So I am walking to go grab lunch with my bff, pho, when I pass this sports store by my house. They say stuff is like 50% off so I take a gander inside. There really wasn't anything that I would possibly buy in this store, but I am American so I am sold on nothing other than a price deduction of nothing in particular. And it took me a couple minutes to figure this out but on my way out I saw this hat on the hat rack that caught my eye--and the outdoor percentages in large font win. Now I used to be a hat aficionado when I was a youngster, and no hat has really excited me like this one since then, but this one looked very old school and comfortable. It did not have that webbing in the front to prop it up to look like an abe lincoln hat and the brim was smaller than normal ones (6 rows of stitching to the normal 8--I told you I was a hat aficionado). It had the letters BPC on the front so it also had the element of mystery going for it, which even the internet can't explain (my best guess from researching is Battery Park City. I don't know. Do you?) To add to its mystery, the tag on the inside says "Sample. Not for sale." But it was for sale!! And I bought it. Actually, here is a picture of it to show you its awesomeness (one more thing that you can't tell with today's technology, it is very soft. Could I have just showed you this before all those words above? Of course. Remember: quite unblog-worthy weekend, so a hat gets a paragraph. I'm an equal opportunity blogger):
My neck hair was getting sort of mullet-like, so on the way to a coffee shop after lunch I stopped in this random haircut place to get a full haircut because I don't think you can just walk in to a haircut place and be like "hey can you de-mullet me and stop at that?" Especially when the haircut place is primarily spanish-speaking. "De-mullet" doesn't translate. Incidentally, a word of advice: I wouldn't recommend playing hair-cutting-establishment-roulette if you would like your hair to turn out as you imagined it would if you could communicate with the hair cutter person in your primary language. Take it or leave it. Also incidentally, this is why I shaved my head for like 5 years. Saved money and frustration.
While I am doling out advice, this one is for you, new coffee shops: if you want me to frequent your establishment you should have chairs for more than like 6 people. If you don't, you just look like an elitest bitch of a coffee shop that I want to businessly stiffarm. So I won't be going to Flying Fish on Mt. Pleasant St. anytime soon. Besides, Flying Fish is the name of a brewery already so you're failing at being elite by being unoriginal. Not cool.
So, needless to write, I ended up at my regular old coffee shop where I spent my afternoon writing something I may or may not publish here later when/if I ever finish it, which is unlikely (and putting something on the internet is definitely "publishing" it. I am pretty sure if you look up how to site in a bibliography a random blog post it will be like, title of article: "write title of article", source: "the internet, bitch").
Anyway. There went Sunday.
Monday I had off so my roommate and I went golfing. In my earnest attempt to not let him beat me when he had only golfed a few times in his life, I played the best I ever had. Playing golf under pressure will now be added to my resume. And I got a wicked farmer's tan in the process. And that will stay with me forever. No it won't. But the memory will. And that's what counts. Actually, with the average life span lengthening and the propensity for people to get Alzheimer's, the memory probably won't last forever either. But that is what this blog is for. You are probably regretting spending however long it took you to read through this but me, the center of this blog's universe, will be able to look back on this years down the line (if the internet is still around) and reminisce about "This Past Weekend 2011".
But thanks, dedicated reader, for spending the time to get to this here (second to) last sentence. I imagine it was probably not worth it.
Next week we are going to have a guest blogger and his name is relevance. Maybe. Probably not. He's usually not welcome here.
Now, I know what you're thinking: wasn't there some mention of a dream you had? Yeah, actually I just mentioned it in the previous paragraph. Thanks for reminding me.
Dream (summary): I am sitting somewhere (can't remember) chewing the fat with Bill fucking Gates talking about the public interest law scholarship his dad has at the University of Washington law school. He was asking me questions, quite sassily I remember, like what was the scholarship called and what do you have to do for it. I remember responding by saying something like I am pretty sure it is named after your dad Billy jr. (actually Gates Public Service Law Scholars). (Side bar: I really want that scholarship. In addition to my chances of getting it being like 0% and therefore have to pay full tuition because I am sure, compared to the standard UW Law applicant that is most likely very liberal and resumely versed in the public interest field, I look like a right wing public interest amateur, I do not know if I would go out there so far away from "home". Here is why: if, by very small chance, I find a lady to impregnate and consequently make my parents grandparents, these offspring of mine might be the only grandkids my mom gets to play with because there is an even smaller chance my sisters succeed as well (sorry sisters--it's not our fault, though. mother and father withheld affection from us growing up so we have them to blame for our relationship incompetence. I mean, it certainly isn't my fault I flinch at the touch, no matter how gentle, of another human being. Just kidding. Maybe). I don't want to deny my mom access to these, possibly only, grandkids to which she is so looking forward. So University of Washington Law School determiner of who gets the Bill Gates's Dad Public Interest Scholarship, if you are reading, and I am sure you are, know that because of my affectionless childhood there is a good chance I will be married exclusively to my job, which, ideally, will be a public interest lawyer, so your scholarship will not be granted in vain. You can just paste my acceptance in the comments below for expeditiousness's sake if you would like.)
That's it. Was it worth your time reading about it, or even me writing it? Probably not. <--Check that. Definitely not. But it happened and since everything happens for a reason let's just hope for the best.
What did I really do? Friday I was tired so nothing other than watch the NHL Stanley Cup Finals hockey game and X-Men Origins because Saturday I went to Friendship Heights--an area of DC that is basically an outdoor high-end mall in which I felt more uncomfortable than I would had I been walking around the sketchiest of neighborhoods in the city. But that is probably because I am from Hellertown and am gangster like that. I have uncharacteristically digressed. I meant to finish the Friendship Heights sentence with "and saw the new X Men movie with my mentee/high school friend." Really the two movies were not related but just coincidental that I watched the one on Friday while planning on going on Saturday to the new one. As for Saturday night, yeah, I didn't really do anything either.
Then Sunday. Oh day of rest how you surprise me sometimes. So I am walking to go grab lunch with my bff, pho, when I pass this sports store by my house. They say stuff is like 50% off so I take a gander inside. There really wasn't anything that I would possibly buy in this store, but I am American so I am sold on nothing other than a price deduction of nothing in particular. And it took me a couple minutes to figure this out but on my way out I saw this hat on the hat rack that caught my eye--and the outdoor percentages in large font win. Now I used to be a hat aficionado when I was a youngster, and no hat has really excited me like this one since then, but this one looked very old school and comfortable. It did not have that webbing in the front to prop it up to look like an abe lincoln hat and the brim was smaller than normal ones (6 rows of stitching to the normal 8--I told you I was a hat aficionado). It had the letters BPC on the front so it also had the element of mystery going for it, which even the internet can't explain (my best guess from researching is Battery Park City. I don't know. Do you?) To add to its mystery, the tag on the inside says "Sample. Not for sale." But it was for sale!! And I bought it. Actually, here is a picture of it to show you its awesomeness (one more thing that you can't tell with today's technology, it is very soft. Could I have just showed you this before all those words above? Of course. Remember: quite unblog-worthy weekend, so a hat gets a paragraph. I'm an equal opportunity blogger):
My neck hair was getting sort of mullet-like, so on the way to a coffee shop after lunch I stopped in this random haircut place to get a full haircut because I don't think you can just walk in to a haircut place and be like "hey can you de-mullet me and stop at that?" Especially when the haircut place is primarily spanish-speaking. "De-mullet" doesn't translate. Incidentally, a word of advice: I wouldn't recommend playing hair-cutting-establishment-roulette if you would like your hair to turn out as you imagined it would if you could communicate with the hair cutter person in your primary language. Take it or leave it. Also incidentally, this is why I shaved my head for like 5 years. Saved money and frustration.
While I am doling out advice, this one is for you, new coffee shops: if you want me to frequent your establishment you should have chairs for more than like 6 people. If you don't, you just look like an elitest bitch of a coffee shop that I want to businessly stiffarm. So I won't be going to Flying Fish on Mt. Pleasant St. anytime soon. Besides, Flying Fish is the name of a brewery already so you're failing at being elite by being unoriginal. Not cool.
So, needless to write, I ended up at my regular old coffee shop where I spent my afternoon writing something I may or may not publish here later when/if I ever finish it, which is unlikely (and putting something on the internet is definitely "publishing" it. I am pretty sure if you look up how to site in a bibliography a random blog post it will be like, title of article: "write title of article", source: "the internet, bitch").
Anyway. There went Sunday.
Monday I had off so my roommate and I went golfing. In my earnest attempt to not let him beat me when he had only golfed a few times in his life, I played the best I ever had. Playing golf under pressure will now be added to my resume. And I got a wicked farmer's tan in the process. And that will stay with me forever. No it won't. But the memory will. And that's what counts. Actually, with the average life span lengthening and the propensity for people to get Alzheimer's, the memory probably won't last forever either. But that is what this blog is for. You are probably regretting spending however long it took you to read through this but me, the center of this blog's universe, will be able to look back on this years down the line (if the internet is still around) and reminisce about "This Past Weekend 2011".
But thanks, dedicated reader, for spending the time to get to this here (second to) last sentence. I imagine it was probably not worth it.
Next week we are going to have a guest blogger and his name is relevance. Maybe. Probably not. He's usually not welcome here.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
I Understand Gambling as an Addiction 2011
You know what I really wish I could do away with? Regular old bodily processes like going to the bathroom, showering, and sleeping. Believe me, I love sleeping when I am sleeping, but I hate that I have to do it to rid myself of fatigue. So maybe I just hate the concept of fatigue. Jesus, why can't you do away with that? Or maybe there just are not enough hours in the day. I rue you, 24 hour rotation of your axis, earth. If there has to be a concept of fatigue could we not have like a 40 hour day where I could sleep like 10 hours, work like 8, read a couple, work out one or two, eat a couple, play with people a few, learn to play tennis/fix cars/calculus/piano and call it a day? But I guess that would still mean the jc would have to do something about fatigue because I don't think I could make it 40 hours a day regularly. But we'll figure that out later. And cliches. I don't like cliches either. Like when someone has something on their face and people are like, "Are you going to save that for later?" No. I just had a piece of the food that I was eating earlier get stuck to my face. Why would I save a crumb? That's impractical. And if I did why would I save it on my face? They make some small ziplock bags.
Anyway.
So I am walking back from the gym on Thursday and as I am coming up the alley I see my two roommates on the deck smoking the hookah. It was only like 730, which is a little early to smoke on a normal day, but definitely too early this day because I wasn't there yet. So I express this to them, grab a beer, and take a seat. My roommate more or less immediately asks if I want to go to Atlantic City on Sunday. Yeah, I could do that.
Another new DC brewery released beer this past week. Everyone else in the house, which is the extent of my social circle, was occupied so I walked on over to my local watering hole to try the new brew. I walk on in and take a seat at the bar, which is almost completely unoccupied when this older lady says to me "I have never had anyone walk in to where it was only me and not say hello." In my head myriad snarky comments are brewing like "Yeah, well, I don't like your face," and "O sorry. Hi, I'm Jeff. Let's end this conversation," and "Yeah, I'm awkward like that. Want to buy me a drink?" and "I don't care." But before I could get anything out she said, "How old are you? You look to be the same age as my grandson. I could be your grandmother. My grandson is very respectful of his elders." "I've met my both my grandmothers and you are not either one of them," I said in a tone low enough I knew she wouldn't react. I hadn't even taken a sip of this new beer yet and it was one of the worst I had ever had at this point. Then I told her how old I was after a little incredulous calculation and my beer arrived. Luckily, the arrival of the bartender to give me my beer distracted her enough to talk to him and I could carry on by my own asocial self. Then I went home and watched Restrepo and lost a little more faith in humanity--a good Friday night.
One of the best ideas I have had recently was to listen to the Harry Potter audiobooks while at work, so after sleeping in late on Saturday for the first time in a while I went to the local library to get that figured out, which was nice. My roommate's birthday was this past week so there was a little party that night for that/Alexander Rud was leaving for Japan the next day, so there was that.
Speaking of my roommate moving to Japan, myself and a couple other roommates took him to the airport Sunday morning for dramatic emotional goodbye's sake. Without the emotion and drama. But, really, who moves to Japan? So there was that and then we headed on up to Atlantic City to compound our emotional loss with monetary loss because I studied psychology and know that's constructive.
Have you ever been to Philadelphia? Yeah, me too. My feelings toward it are pretty ambiguous, though, even though I grew up like an hour away. But driving around south Philadelphia looking for cheesesteaks gave me a good impression with its abundance of small businesses and thin streets. Maybe I will live there one day. I don't know. Do you? Anyway, those cheesesteaks sure are tasty. But we weren't there to eat away the loss of our roommate. Atlantic City and it's monopoly board places was our destination.
Really we were talking about going in August but with the spur of that moment on Thursday we were now there in June. Superficially it was pretty much exactly as I expected: gaudy and Jersey-like. The inside of the casino was also as I expected with its flashing lights and the faint scent of cigarette smoke and desperation. Now the only casino gambling I have ever done was slot machine poker back in Bethlehem and that was a complete waste of money. So this time I brought some real dough in hopes my waste of money lasts longer. I once saw a guy win like $500 at a roulette table and it looked like fun in the process so that was the first thing we tried. I started off with $60 and about 15 minutes I was up $25. Given my amateurness, at one point I had kind of inadvertently cheated and ended up winning, so I had that going for me.
Then we carried on to another casino to a less expensive roulette table while we were waiting for my Tennesee roommate transplanted to New Jersey to join us. Then the party started. After winning a little more at roulette and a couple beers I tried my hand at black jack, which was a mistake because that is not a game for amateurs. I didn't know what I was doing and played as such and people do not like that. People were getting mad at me being like "what are you doing? you don't do that." And I was like "I don't care." I had wanted to say "I don't care about you. go away if you don't want me playing at your table you meanies." But I just left it at "I don't care" and moved back to the roulette table where the fun was.
It was probably because I was wearing my party pants but the odds were on our side. It was pretty much just us four and this random lady named Cathy at the table. For some reason Cathy liked the number 32 and it came up 4 times out of 7, which should not happen but it did. And red numbers were coming up abnormally often as well so I was like, "Where are all the blacks at?!" not realizing how that could be misinterpreted. Thomas likes the number 17 but it had just won the spin before we arrived but he tried it anyway and would you believe it it came up the very next one too! And Jared likes the number 4 but that wasn't coming up. Then I was about to go to the bathroom when he was like "Man, 4 and 8 never come up." But you can't say things like that and not play it. And wouldn't you know the next number was 4 and Jared won me and Thomas a bunch of money with that pessimism! Hot damn. In addition to the inherent benefit of winning money, the drinks ladies come by you more often when you're winning. So we had that going for us too. Party pants.
At this point with all of our winning and Cathy winning a couple thousand dollars on 32 and 29 defying the odds greatly, the pit boss guy wasn't having that so he shut down the table. Ever have that happen to you? Yeah, me neither. But it was now like 7pm and we had work the next day so that was that.
Yup, I sure do live the good life. It's OK, you can live vicariously through me.
Anyway.
So I am walking back from the gym on Thursday and as I am coming up the alley I see my two roommates on the deck smoking the hookah. It was only like 730, which is a little early to smoke on a normal day, but definitely too early this day because I wasn't there yet. So I express this to them, grab a beer, and take a seat. My roommate more or less immediately asks if I want to go to Atlantic City on Sunday. Yeah, I could do that.
Another new DC brewery released beer this past week. Everyone else in the house, which is the extent of my social circle, was occupied so I walked on over to my local watering hole to try the new brew. I walk on in and take a seat at the bar, which is almost completely unoccupied when this older lady says to me "I have never had anyone walk in to where it was only me and not say hello." In my head myriad snarky comments are brewing like "Yeah, well, I don't like your face," and "O sorry. Hi, I'm Jeff. Let's end this conversation," and "Yeah, I'm awkward like that. Want to buy me a drink?" and "I don't care." But before I could get anything out she said, "How old are you? You look to be the same age as my grandson. I could be your grandmother. My grandson is very respectful of his elders." "I've met my both my grandmothers and you are not either one of them," I said in a tone low enough I knew she wouldn't react. I hadn't even taken a sip of this new beer yet and it was one of the worst I had ever had at this point. Then I told her how old I was after a little incredulous calculation and my beer arrived. Luckily, the arrival of the bartender to give me my beer distracted her enough to talk to him and I could carry on by my own asocial self. Then I went home and watched Restrepo and lost a little more faith in humanity--a good Friday night.
One of the best ideas I have had recently was to listen to the Harry Potter audiobooks while at work, so after sleeping in late on Saturday for the first time in a while I went to the local library to get that figured out, which was nice. My roommate's birthday was this past week so there was a little party that night for that/Alexander Rud was leaving for Japan the next day, so there was that.
Speaking of my roommate moving to Japan, myself and a couple other roommates took him to the airport Sunday morning for dramatic emotional goodbye's sake. Without the emotion and drama. But, really, who moves to Japan? So there was that and then we headed on up to Atlantic City to compound our emotional loss with monetary loss because I studied psychology and know that's constructive.
Have you ever been to Philadelphia? Yeah, me too. My feelings toward it are pretty ambiguous, though, even though I grew up like an hour away. But driving around south Philadelphia looking for cheesesteaks gave me a good impression with its abundance of small businesses and thin streets. Maybe I will live there one day. I don't know. Do you? Anyway, those cheesesteaks sure are tasty. But we weren't there to eat away the loss of our roommate. Atlantic City and it's monopoly board places was our destination.
Really we were talking about going in August but with the spur of that moment on Thursday we were now there in June. Superficially it was pretty much exactly as I expected: gaudy and Jersey-like. The inside of the casino was also as I expected with its flashing lights and the faint scent of cigarette smoke and desperation. Now the only casino gambling I have ever done was slot machine poker back in Bethlehem and that was a complete waste of money. So this time I brought some real dough in hopes my waste of money lasts longer. I once saw a guy win like $500 at a roulette table and it looked like fun in the process so that was the first thing we tried. I started off with $60 and about 15 minutes I was up $25. Given my amateurness, at one point I had kind of inadvertently cheated and ended up winning, so I had that going for me.
Then we carried on to another casino to a less expensive roulette table while we were waiting for my Tennesee roommate transplanted to New Jersey to join us. Then the party started. After winning a little more at roulette and a couple beers I tried my hand at black jack, which was a mistake because that is not a game for amateurs. I didn't know what I was doing and played as such and people do not like that. People were getting mad at me being like "what are you doing? you don't do that." And I was like "I don't care." I had wanted to say "I don't care about you. go away if you don't want me playing at your table you meanies." But I just left it at "I don't care" and moved back to the roulette table where the fun was.
It was probably because I was wearing my party pants but the odds were on our side. It was pretty much just us four and this random lady named Cathy at the table. For some reason Cathy liked the number 32 and it came up 4 times out of 7, which should not happen but it did. And red numbers were coming up abnormally often as well so I was like, "Where are all the blacks at?!" not realizing how that could be misinterpreted. Thomas likes the number 17 but it had just won the spin before we arrived but he tried it anyway and would you believe it it came up the very next one too! And Jared likes the number 4 but that wasn't coming up. Then I was about to go to the bathroom when he was like "Man, 4 and 8 never come up." But you can't say things like that and not play it. And wouldn't you know the next number was 4 and Jared won me and Thomas a bunch of money with that pessimism! Hot damn. In addition to the inherent benefit of winning money, the drinks ladies come by you more often when you're winning. So we had that going for us too. Party pants.
At this point with all of our winning and Cathy winning a couple thousand dollars on 32 and 29 defying the odds greatly, the pit boss guy wasn't having that so he shut down the table. Ever have that happen to you? Yeah, me neither. But it was now like 7pm and we had work the next day so that was that.
Yup, I sure do live the good life. It's OK, you can live vicariously through me.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Memorial Day Weekend 2011
The thing about peppermints is that, yeah, they give you a minty fresh taste in your mouth when it's there but when it's gone it leaves a horrendous aftertaste that makes you want to either eat more peppermints or brush your teeth. Terrible. Why do people eat peppermints? Actually, does anyone other than old people? Well, I must every once in a while to have this strong an opinion of them. I blame my old boss who has a bowl on her desk.
Anyway.
Let's talk about relationships. They're weird. You invest like months, if not years, hanging out with this person, developing habits with this person, getting to know them better than you do like anyone else. You don't do it on purpose for the sake of believing you're an independent human being but you basically become a single entity. 'Boy-girl' not 'boy and girl' (or boy-boy/girl-girl). What happens when someone decides they no longer want to be part of that relationship? Normally what I do is leave the country or date some one that is moving somewhere. But what if they return? Or worse yet, never go anywhere in the first place. How do you just like drop these habits that include feeling like you want/need to be around that other person now that they are a different entity to you even when you know it's for the best? Now you have to not touch this person with whom you are so used to being so physically close. Normally you just rub their head or kiss them whenever you have some free motions available but now you have to convince yourself that is not appropriate even when their hair is so soft.
Yeah, that's hard. Given my complete inability to care about anyone but myself, again, I just date people when there is no chance at succeeding since I or they will be moving far away in the near future so that I have an excuse when failure becomes inevitable/self-fulfillingly prophetic. But if, unlike me, you are a decent human being, then I imagine it would be pretty difficult even if it is necessary. But that's where the concept of time and sugarmommas come to ease/erase the pain. And next thing you know you are fine and a fully functioning independent entity again.
Or you just get lazy and get back together for the sake of their softer skin and/or hair/pressure of society to get married and have kids because who is going to pay for the older generations if the birthrate falls?
Just kidding. You're better than that.
Anyway.
So we went golfing Friday on the first day of my four day weekend at this course near my house. I saw a fox. We drank a bunch of beers because we could/had a lot of time to finish 9 holes. Then we went to eat at Red Rocks (you know, the place with the really good pizza but I am not so sure they're in my top 3 anymore since they got rid of my favorite one with mussels and capers but still excellent).
Then on Saturday early afternoon we decided to have a little seafood fest as is the tradition when watching the Champions League final. So we went down to Maine Ave. in SW to the seafood market. There is a lot of seafood there. I had never had an oyster so I decided I would try one there. There was this guy eating a plate full of them and I asked if I could observe and learn. He said yea. So that happened. Then I asked him what they taste like and he said something pretty inappropriate and not to be repeated here. The nice fish market lady let me try one and it turns out they don't taste like anything other than the lemon and hot sauce you put on them. Then I got a nice little container of ceviche, which was delectable and spicy. I don't know why I didn't think of this beforehand, but most of the crabs there they were selling were alive so I employed a little cognitive dissonance and pitched in for a bushel of them.
At home we ate crabs and other grillout food and other people came and joined in. And Barcelona won, so that was good. And we tried to smoke the hookah but it was not cooperating, which was disheartening, but a false alarm to larger issues. It was probably just the aluminum foil.
Then a friend was having a little 30th bday celebration so we went over to his apartment for some more food and drinking. Then we went to Wonderland Ballroom for some more drinking. I was only going to have one beer but I don't know if you remember or not but I have this roommate that is a bad influence so he bought whiskey shots.
Then I left to head home. Then I realized I didn't close out my tab. So I was back at Wonderland Ballroom drinking more and dancing. Not sure how this happened.
Then I left again. While I was waiting outside for people a Domino's pizza guy was delivering a stranger a pizza. He asked me if I wanted to buy a pizza for $5. I said I did and opened my wallet. There was only $2. I told the delivery guy this. The delivery guy got pensive and said that if I don't tell anyone that we would have a deal. I said I wouldn't. I have since told everyone I know, including you.
I didn't drink that much but for some reason I woke up not feeling that well. That reason is whiskey. So I cured myself and got ready for day three of four off. A couple people were going to eat at this ramen place on H St. and I was like, well, a couple other of us are going drinking on H St. Want to join forces? We did.
The ramen place didn't open until 5pm and it was only like 2 but across the street there was this place called Star and Shamrock, a Irish Jewish concoction of a bar. When in Rome you eat pizza so when in a jewish place you eat pastrami on jewish rye. Which I did. With a bloody mary. Then the bar tender was like "since you guys are like my first fucking customers of the fucking day we're going to do a shot of this fucking grape rum shit. what should we fucking mix this shit with?" Someone said blue curacao so we had a shot of "fucking grape rum, some fucking blue bull shit, and some fucking soda water to dilute that shit." It tasted like barely spike kool-aid. Here's a picture:
Then we moved on to the main event: the Biergarten Haus--an authentic german style biergarten with outdoor seating and liters of german beer. We each had like three liters, which is a lot. Here's a picture:
My stomach literally could not handle that amount of liquid so it regurgitated a little.
After that we tried the ramen place again but there was like an hour wait, which is ridiculous, so we left H st. entirely. Some of us then went to Lou's and put more substantive stuff in our stomachs. And all that was pretty exhausting so that was about it for Sunday.
As you know, Monday was Memorial Day/the national championship in lacrosse with Virginia versus Maryland. I have roommates that went to each school so, in addition to the requisite Memorial Day grillout, it doubled as a lacrosse national championship watching festivity. But that's probably because it was like 200 degrees outside and we had to do something inside.
Incidentally, I need a new place to live because it was not even June and it felt like summer in the Amazon. Well, I have never been to summer in the Amazon, but I've heard it gets really hot and humid there and it was extremely hot and humid here in DC.
And that was that.
Anyway.
Let's talk about relationships. They're weird. You invest like months, if not years, hanging out with this person, developing habits with this person, getting to know them better than you do like anyone else. You don't do it on purpose for the sake of believing you're an independent human being but you basically become a single entity. 'Boy-girl' not 'boy and girl' (or boy-boy/girl-girl). What happens when someone decides they no longer want to be part of that relationship? Normally what I do is leave the country or date some one that is moving somewhere. But what if they return? Or worse yet, never go anywhere in the first place. How do you just like drop these habits that include feeling like you want/need to be around that other person now that they are a different entity to you even when you know it's for the best? Now you have to not touch this person with whom you are so used to being so physically close. Normally you just rub their head or kiss them whenever you have some free motions available but now you have to convince yourself that is not appropriate even when their hair is so soft.
Yeah, that's hard. Given my complete inability to care about anyone but myself, again, I just date people when there is no chance at succeeding since I or they will be moving far away in the near future so that I have an excuse when failure becomes inevitable/self-fulfillingly prophetic. But if, unlike me, you are a decent human being, then I imagine it would be pretty difficult even if it is necessary. But that's where the concept of time and sugarmommas come to ease/erase the pain. And next thing you know you are fine and a fully functioning independent entity again.
Or you just get lazy and get back together for the sake of their softer skin and/or hair/pressure of society to get married and have kids because who is going to pay for the older generations if the birthrate falls?
Just kidding. You're better than that.
Anyway.
So we went golfing Friday on the first day of my four day weekend at this course near my house. I saw a fox. We drank a bunch of beers because we could/had a lot of time to finish 9 holes. Then we went to eat at Red Rocks (you know, the place with the really good pizza but I am not so sure they're in my top 3 anymore since they got rid of my favorite one with mussels and capers but still excellent).
Then on Saturday early afternoon we decided to have a little seafood fest as is the tradition when watching the Champions League final. So we went down to Maine Ave. in SW to the seafood market. There is a lot of seafood there. I had never had an oyster so I decided I would try one there. There was this guy eating a plate full of them and I asked if I could observe and learn. He said yea. So that happened. Then I asked him what they taste like and he said something pretty inappropriate and not to be repeated here. The nice fish market lady let me try one and it turns out they don't taste like anything other than the lemon and hot sauce you put on them. Then I got a nice little container of ceviche, which was delectable and spicy. I don't know why I didn't think of this beforehand, but most of the crabs there they were selling were alive so I employed a little cognitive dissonance and pitched in for a bushel of them.
At home we ate crabs and other grillout food and other people came and joined in. And Barcelona won, so that was good. And we tried to smoke the hookah but it was not cooperating, which was disheartening, but a false alarm to larger issues. It was probably just the aluminum foil.
Then a friend was having a little 30th bday celebration so we went over to his apartment for some more food and drinking. Then we went to Wonderland Ballroom for some more drinking. I was only going to have one beer but I don't know if you remember or not but I have this roommate that is a bad influence so he bought whiskey shots.
Then I left to head home. Then I realized I didn't close out my tab. So I was back at Wonderland Ballroom drinking more and dancing. Not sure how this happened.
Then I left again. While I was waiting outside for people a Domino's pizza guy was delivering a stranger a pizza. He asked me if I wanted to buy a pizza for $5. I said I did and opened my wallet. There was only $2. I told the delivery guy this. The delivery guy got pensive and said that if I don't tell anyone that we would have a deal. I said I wouldn't. I have since told everyone I know, including you.
I didn't drink that much but for some reason I woke up not feeling that well. That reason is whiskey. So I cured myself and got ready for day three of four off. A couple people were going to eat at this ramen place on H St. and I was like, well, a couple other of us are going drinking on H St. Want to join forces? We did.
The ramen place didn't open until 5pm and it was only like 2 but across the street there was this place called Star and Shamrock, a Irish Jewish concoction of a bar. When in Rome you eat pizza so when in a jewish place you eat pastrami on jewish rye. Which I did. With a bloody mary. Then the bar tender was like "since you guys are like my first fucking customers of the fucking day we're going to do a shot of this fucking grape rum shit. what should we fucking mix this shit with?" Someone said blue curacao so we had a shot of "fucking grape rum, some fucking blue bull shit, and some fucking soda water to dilute that shit." It tasted like barely spike kool-aid. Here's a picture:
Then we moved on to the main event: the Biergarten Haus--an authentic german style biergarten with outdoor seating and liters of german beer. We each had like three liters, which is a lot. Here's a picture:
My stomach literally could not handle that amount of liquid so it regurgitated a little.
After that we tried the ramen place again but there was like an hour wait, which is ridiculous, so we left H st. entirely. Some of us then went to Lou's and put more substantive stuff in our stomachs. And all that was pretty exhausting so that was about it for Sunday.
As you know, Monday was Memorial Day/the national championship in lacrosse with Virginia versus Maryland. I have roommates that went to each school so, in addition to the requisite Memorial Day grillout, it doubled as a lacrosse national championship watching festivity. But that's probably because it was like 200 degrees outside and we had to do something inside.
Incidentally, I need a new place to live because it was not even June and it felt like summer in the Amazon. Well, I have never been to summer in the Amazon, but I've heard it gets really hot and humid there and it was extremely hot and humid here in DC.
And that was that.
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