"And we end up in Clarendon. Which is not where we want to be. Ever."
I wrote those words way back in 2011. We had got lost looking for Sweetwater Tavern and ended up in Clarendon. Remember? Well, the quote still holds true, but since I am a hypocrite, I went there willingly Friday.
One of my favorite feelings in the world is that which I have upon leaving work on Friday--another reason to take off on Mondays instead of Friday, if you work for the government and get this option. Part of me walks out of work saying it is like any other weekday until it gets late so I will work out or do something "productive", but most of the time I just go home and sit on my couch and relish the fact that I don't have to be up early the next day and can forget any morals that I have in regards to eating dead animals (new policy: meatless weekdays; holidays and vacations don't count--see, week in Tokyo; and, entire tray of Chick-Fil-A nuggets). And of course there is the consumption of alcohol, which I don't usually do during the week. If my whole life were the weekend, I think I would be better at it.
So we bring out the shochu, which is japanese sweet potato liquor that I brought back from Japan, and we drink some of it. Then we head down the street to a friend of a friend's house to "pre-game" but to me this was all part of the "game" itself. I finish my glass of shochu that I brought from my house because I didn't have any plastic cups lying around and was seemingly inable to part with my last connection to Tokyo, leave said glass at the friend of a friend's house, and have to face the truth that, after several inquiries into our whereabouts, we can no longer delay and must go to Clarendon. It was for a friend's birthday so it wasn't about me anymore.
He was at a bar called Ri Ra, which is probably gaelic, but certainly lame. $5 cover. This fact makes about as much sense to me as the fact that there were plenty of people willing to pay it. Joke's on you, bar, I have a flask and I am going to get $5 worth of free coca-cola classic from you (we thought we were going to be metroing there; we taxied it; and probably still cheap bastards). Not much more I can say than that though about the experience.
But let me stretch this one out, anecdotally: There is a friend of a friend of a friend in the group of people there for my friend's bday. She leaves her water on the table we are standing near and when she comes back she asks around if we think anyone rufied her water. Because I am a terrible person and am bored in life, I say "yea, probably." After some convincing her of this fact, she goes to get a new water and her friend starts scolding me about how I shouldn't lie to her friend that her water was rufied and tells me I should go tell her that her water isn't rufied. I say I am not going to do this. Then her friend comes back with a new water and I think everyone won there: I enjoyed the moment and she got fresh water as her old one may or may not have been rufied and it wouldn't surprise me if it were as the clientele in there reminded me of the frat guy-frequented bars from college where there was a moderately good chance your drink would be rufied. You're welcome, friend of a friend of a friend.
But really I shouldn't joke about rufies. Sorry. So, moral of the story: Clarendon is still terrible and I do not want to end up there ever unless it is someone's birthday. And then it's probably a good time to evaluate your friendship with that person.
Then I woke up at 10am on Saturday. I have no explanation for that happening. And I cannot say that I took much advantage of it except for getting to the library before it closed and the gym before I was to start eating and drinking unhealthy things during the San Francisco 49ers-New Orleans Saints football game.
Speaking of which, I am pretty sure the best food/drink deals to be found in the city are at a bar in Adams Morgan called Town Tavern. During the game they had a pitcher of beer and a dozen wings for $10. That's crazy. This bar is also the 49ers bar so it was crowded, which was fun when they won. And during the game for that matter as that was one of the better american football games I have ever seen.
Another anecdote (disclaimer--it's a little PG-13): so we are standing there watching the game when this girl walks in the bar with very white, fuzzy boots. My roommate comments that she resembles a Clydesdale. A little proof the jesus exists: this "Clydesdale" comes up to him and asks where is he from. He lies and says Tennessee. She starts kissing him, tongue version. Apparently she has on her bucket list to kiss someone from every state. I later asked her if she would have kissed him if he told the truth and said Virginia. She said no. So that happened, unbelievably.
From 8-10 it is all-you-can-drink at Town Tavern. So we stayed there for the New England Patriots-Denver Broncos game, too. And finally Tim Tebow will be gone. I hate Time Tebow, partially because he owned us in college, but now because the media pays too much undeserved attention to him. I know, that's not his fault, but "the media" is too abstract an entity for me to "hate", so Tim Tebow is the object of my disdain. As a graduate of the University of Tennessee I think I am entitled to that.
I had off Monday because my employer isn't racist, so let's skip Sunday and let me tell you about it.
Have you ever heard of the Palisades in Washington, DC? Probably not. It's not metro accessible and there are no monuments there so really that's understandable. Well, geographically, it's just about due-west from where I live, which would make getting there quite simple you would think, but I didn't take the due-west route as I wanted to stop by a couple places on the way.
First stop, Tudor Place. Now, I like architecture and I really like what I think is Tudor architecture, which is this. The Tudor Place is not what I consider Tudor architecture (but what is, really? am i right?), so it didn't incite the same feeling inside me attractive architecture usually does. So I moved on.
Much like how when I returned from my beer drinking weekend in Denver the next weekend I went to some breweries here in DC, I went looking for some good sushi here in DC after being in Japan for some time. So I asked my friend who lives in Japan where his favorite sushi place is in DC because if anyone knows where good sushi is it is my American friend that has lived in Tokyo for like six months. He said Kotobuki, which happens to be in the Palisades and is actually the reason I chose to visit the Palisades as a blogworthy neighborhood. Now, I know what you might be thinking and if you're not you will be shortly: "but your friend lived in DC before Japan so why would his opinion on a good sushi place be more merited than anyone else's?" Stop thinking that.
So I am at the sushi place eating my miso soup when I see this individual sitting next to me reading what is one of my favorite books, The History of Love by Nicole Krauss (if you're in a bookstore, find it, and read the last 50 pages or so. or just buy it. it won't take you long since there isn't much on each page and thank me in the comments section below. you'll feel alive. or at least i did. but i also am borderline incapable of real emotion so it was like an oasis of truth for me, an individual parched of real feelings.). So I'm like, "hey guy, that's a great book isn't it? it's one of my favorites" he says, "yeah, so far." "yeah, just wait till you get to the last 50 pages or so. it's a beautiful turn of events. anyway, sorry for interrupting. i do admire your ability to read here in a restaurant, though. i'm too self-conscious to pull that off." "yeah, i'm a pretty big nerd. i love sushi and reading, so this just makes sense." "i hear ya. but um yea i really wish people didn't speak of being a nerd so derogatorily. i mean i don't really know you, but it just seems when people say that it makes it a bad thing to appreciate things that require an intellect to enjoy. and it's a bummer that is such a popular sentiment, you know." Then my squid and tuna nigiri, and shitaake mushroom roll arrived and since I am pretty singularly minded when food is in front of me, and thus a fast eater, the conversation ended there.
Other than a few restaurants/stores on MacArthur Blvd, there really isn't much to the Palisades if you're not looking for expensive houses, trees, and the feeling of being in the suburbs somewhere.
Boom. Two posts in three days; prolific like Agatha Christie.
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