House Party Weekend 2011

So I was reading about some of the crazy things Kim Jung-Il did during his life and one of them, supposedly, was that he wanted to end North Korea's famine with giant rabbits. Sounds ridiculous doesn't it. Well, not as ridiculous as the fact that giant rabbits actually exist!!!

that's a real photo

I can't decide if I am excited at life size adorables like that or terrified that cute, fluffy rabbits can now be found in dog size. I'm leaning towards the terrified. And by leaning I mean currently feeling.

I can't say that I left the house much this weekend. House party at my house Friday and a going away party at a friend's nearby on Saturday. And we'll just pretend the daylight times of the day didn't exist.

And I probably won't be posting for a little while because people should not be working this time of year, regardless of religion/celebration of christmas. I mean to me it's not religious--if it were I wouldn't partake in celebrating christmas as it is--it's capitalism and economics, which I do believe in. But everyone celebrates new years so can we please lobby the government to finally give us the week of 12/24-1/2 off like we had in school growing up? It's senseless making people work during that time. There are other times I would like to use my days off than when everyone else is.

I know, the christ in the xmas makes it kind of religious, but we can just start calling it xmas for serious and that probably will be solved. Santa claus has nothing to do with jesus, just merriment. And who doesn't like to be merry?

Anyway, so next weekend is christmas and then I am going to Japan shortly thereafter, so I'm not sure if I will be writing again until like the second week of January in the year 2012 of our lord. Well, not everyone's lord, as we just discussed, but you use that calendar too, so why don't you celebrate xmas? It's really fun to receive gifts and support the economy. And I am pretty sure the jesus wasn't even born on December 25, so we can arbitrage that date too from being religious.

Who am I talking to with this? I don't know. But can you believe there are rabbits that big in the world?!

The Weekend of December 9, 2011

On Friday it was either head out early without really getting to relax after work to a fancy pants place or take it easy for a bit and head to the neighborhood hipster watering hole. I chose the latter, which is the hipster watering hole, Wonderland, for those not keen on the former/latter verbiage. And this was enticing at first. Until we got there and went right upstairs where the dancing is. You know my thoughts on dancing: avoid it.

So to keep myself entertained I just start screaming because it's acceptable in this atmosphere where terrible rap/pop songs are being played way too loudly. And, besides, where else can you just let out a scream at the top of your lungs without drawing attention to you from people other than those standing right next to you?

And then I tried to get a group of stranger ladies to get a dance circle going, which worked for like 47 seconds and then they were probably like "all right stranger guy, if you're going to ask us to form a dance circle make it worth our while by acting like you care about dancing or at least make it less awkward than what it inherently is." Once that failed, I cut my losses and started heading towards Giant for some cheese and fried chicken.

Upon arriving at the Giant, I noticed the bikeshare bikes. Then I thought to myself "well, damn, i can still salvage this night by hopping on one of these and meeting up with some others that only minutes earlier were out of my sphere of willing to get to but now are quite within a sphere of where i would be willing to go." So I grabbed a bike and met up with some people down at Cafe St. Ex on U St.

It was on the bike ride down the hill that I realized how I really love living in a city. Then I thought about where I might be next year at this time based on where I applied to law school. I mean I really want to live in a big city so why did I apply to anywhere in North Carolina? That's like $90 I won't ever get back. Pittsburgh is a city but is it large enough to keep me entertained given I know what it is like to live in a city with the options of Washington, DC.? And can I even get around there by bike/public transport? Same goes for Baltimore. And then there's Chicago and New York that are on like the other end of the spectrum. They are both enormous cities, which means they are really expensive and loaded with things to do, which can be overwhelming. I haven't been to Boston in several years and both times I went it was summer so a winter there may trump all other things it has going for it like big city feel in medium city size. And then there are the wildcards that are the cities of California.

Fuck. I don't know. I am hoping one school gives me a full scholarship or a fortune cookie identifies a school by name for me or something so that I don't have to make a decision.

Anyway.

So I get to Saint Ex and it's a dancing place downstairs where my friends are. Is there anyone in this city that likes to meet up with friends at a bar and just have conversations while drinking good beer? If I found these people, I would probably just stay here in DC. This type of social interaction has to exist somewhere, though, right? Or is that just wishful thinking? I swear I had this in my life at one point.

Instead of a block of cheese and fried chicken from Giant we ended up at Ben's Chili Bowl where on the way to it I ran into my roommate. Things like that happen when you live with six people.

So when I was in Denver I was tasked with buying some warm weather clothing at a Ross's that I had not packed ahead of time, but failed at this after being distracted by some neat shoes. Do you remember that? Well, the shoes I was distracted by were monochrome--or all the same color--blue chuck taylor's. Had I known I would not have been able to find them anywhere else, including the entirety of the internet, I would have purchased them immediately.

I bring this up because it's time to buy shoes again, which is good because I like lots of shoes out there so this gives me a chance to mix things up, but bad because it's annoying buying new shoes every other month due to their cheapness of construct and susceptibility to stains at the bar/walking down the street.

So on Saturday I hopped on a bikeshare and went down to Georgetown to get a new pair of shoes, preferably something colorful and durable. I had a pair of asics in mind but I don't think they exist outside of there. Really, I don't like dark shoes, but I am tired of having to wash/get new shoes because they get dirty too quickly. So I got shoes that are the opposite of colorful: brown canvas toms desert botas.

Not sure why I wrote about new shoes so much there.

I did some christmas shopping too.

Then my roommate and I kicked off our DC wing tour at Duffy's. A lot of people say these are the best wings in the city, but they're wrong. They're unique in that they are like pure pepper sauce rather than tangy, but nowhere near the best wings I've ever had.

My roommate agreed as well, so on Sunday we tried out another wing place, Nanny O'Brien's, and these were even further from the best wings I have ever had. And crazy expensive too, so I wouldn't recommend there.

Having every other Monday off is probably close to the best thing to ever happen to me. But I am sure that if I ever have a job that I don't look forward so much to the time I have off from it it will top that in terms of best things to ever happen to me.

Yesterday on my day off I decided I would do what I promised with this blog and get exploratory in DC. So  I decided I would go to the bikeshare thing down the street from my house (I have mentioned the bikeshare a lot here and that's for good reason: countering my fat person diet) and pick a place on the map that I had never been before. I decided this place would be Barracks Row.

But first I stopped at Soul Vegetarian Cafe down by Howard. I got this sandwich called the Garvey and it was surprisingly delicious given its veganness. Honestly one of the better sandwiches I have had in a while.

And then I bikey biked it down to Barracks Row, which is on 8th St. SE by Eastern Market, if you had never been there/barely heard about it like me. I really don't spend enough time in the Eastern Market/Capitol Hill area, though. Quite beautiful with the 19th century houses lining the streets.

So Barracks Row is a quaint, few block area with a bunch of businesses of all types on one side of the street and the Marines Barracks on the other side until you get to a point where the businesses are on both sides of the street. I was looking for a coffee shop where I could read the internet and do some law school stuff but I wasn't able to find one of these in what I think is called Barracks Row but did in what I think is technically Eastern Market. I don't know. I walked around, enjoyed the 19th century feel of it all, which is quite different from my gentrified neighborhood, and wondered who I would have to marry to live down there, until I found a coffee shop that wasn't curiously crowded for 3pm on a Monday afternoon (I'm talking about all of you at Pound).

If it's you I must marry to live there, let me know. And can you pay for my law school and pick the one that you would like to pay for me to attend too while we're at it? Thanks.

A Random December Weekend 2011

Let me tell you my Nickelback stories, as in my stories about that horrendous band from Alberta, Canada. There are two of them.

The first one is from my senior year of college, which is not to be mistaken for my last semester of college. They had just put in a bar called Bar Knoxville on the strip where all the students go out. If you are familiar with Bar Knoxville, 1) I am sorry and 2) chances are this is not the Bar Knoxville you know, or it is as I doubt anyone but me reads this. When it first opened nobody went. One time we were just walking by and they gave us free shots just to come in. So we went, got our shots, and left because it was empty but designed to be crowded with dancing people. This was not a Thursday night, however, because if it were we probably would have stayed as on Thursdays they had appealing drink deals like $3 shots of jager, $2 vodka drinks, and $1 PBRs or something like that. At first it seemed as though we were the only ones that realized this was a good deal because for the first while there me and my friends were like the only ones to patronize this establishment, and that's barely an exaggeration. So on one of these random Thursday nights in the fall of 2006, me and my friends were just hanging out in this bar that was pretty much our own, when someone says they think the guys from Nickelback were standing over in the corner by themselves. It was not that random an occurrence as it may seem as they had played in town that night. So I go walk by as if I am going to the bathroom but instead of a straight line I arc on by them to verify and as far as I could tell it was them by the looks of the guy that looked like their lead singer.

And that's my first story of why Nickelback is terrible.

Here's the second: It was the spring of 2009 and I am in Guatemala. Me and my fellow accompanier are assigned to accompany this individual from the capital back to our town. He had just been to the city to be a spokesperson for the indigenous community for the release of military documents that might provide evidence of genocide against the Maya communities, so his security was a concern. Rather than having us take public transportation, which is notoriously dangerous, back to our town in rural central Guatemala, the human rights organization paid for a cab for the 4 hour ride back. And for just about every minute of that ride back in the cramped car, winding through the mountains in traffic, a Nickelback CD was kept on repeat. My friend and I, who was from Canada and had equal hatred for the band, agreed that was probably the closest to torture that we will ever come, if I may say so without appearing too insensitive.

And that's my second of how Nickelback is terrible.

Anyway.

So a few people come over to my house on Friday to "pregame" before heading out. I don't know how this usually goes down for you but ours entailed watching Elf.

Believe me it gets even more random.

We then head on down to Adams Morgan because it's either that or U St. and we are always going to U St., but that's probably because we're not 20 anymore and its close. And we end up at Brass Monkey. I was just reading this book about this woman's year after her husband died for emotional appeal, which turned out to contain really no emotion at all because that's how grief works, and it spoke about a "vortex" in which you find yourself in one situation that derives one memory that derives another and so on. Here's my Brass Monkey vortex: The last time I was in this bar I believe I was like 21 or so visiting a friend during Fall Break and one of his friends stole a bottle from behind the bar. The year before I was there visiting people for Fall Break as well and we ended up at the same place. Maybe the years are reversed but whatever, they happened. Also, one of these two years I remember not being able to get in for a while because I had a hat and they wouldn't let me bring it in. I think I put on a car nearby and hoped for the best, which worked out.

Anyway. Moral of the story is Brass Monkey a sub par bar, and not in the good way, and I do not know why we ended up there. Especially since I found myself forcing myself to move my body while others were 'dancing' around me all the while trying to convince myself to just hold out and keep moving because we might not be doing this the whole night but might go somewhere that being stationary is acceptable. And we did. Why am I not friends with more people that sit down more often? And after all these years, I still have not yet completely understood what the point of bars are for me since I have no interest in meeting new people at them and very few bars have couches and beer less expensive than that I could buy at the store. I guess because that's what everyone else is doing and because sitting on my couch is not very blogworthy.

So we get out of there and I buy the obligatory slice of jumbo slice, which, again, I sincerely believe tastes good regardless of the intoxication/sobriety level. And then I walk my friend's friend home because we live near each other and since I prefer to walk than taxi she's kind of out of a choice. Am I the only one that thinks records, like the big round black wax ones, are a lot more impressive, technologically, than digital music? Probably not. But is it not just the neatest thing that microscopic grooves in plastic can make music?

And now it's like 4am and shortly before getting home I remember I forgot my keys. The two roommates I try to call do not answer and then I find a homeless person sleeping outside of my roommate's door who lives in the basement. The homeless man, named Bradley, says he's been there for four nights. He says he came from Northeast and I don't remember how he said he ended up outside our house except for the fact he had been interacting with neighbors or knew of others who had been sleeping there or nearby, which makes sense because it looks as if someone had been living underneath the steps to our front door. And we talk more about life and such until I convince him to go to the shelter down the street.

So I take him there and luckily he has an ID on him because the shelter requires it, which I thought was ridiculous, and I say goodbye to Bradley. It's 5am now and it's kind of a far walk up a big hill, so I call my roommate for a ride and fortunately he answers and agrees to come get me.

So whereas normal people, or at least in the pre-cell phone days, have the phone numbers of other people they may or may not fall in love with on their person the next day, I woke up with the number of the shelter closest to my house on my hand.

The only thing I had planned for Saturday during the day was to go to the library to return books, which I did. Then I met up with my roommate at Lucky Strike at Gallery Place, which I thought was a bowling alley but is really a fancy bar with some bowling lanes in it. But not before stopping in Urban Outfitters to look at things I am not going to buy but find these headphones to add to my christmas list

Then we got ready to trek all the way on over to Virginia, across the Potomac, to a friend's house for an ugly christmas sweater party. I wore a sweater that I used to love that looks like the ocean but others call ugly.

Have I ever told you what I think of Virginia? I share a similar opinion of it as I do Nickelback: unappealing, grotesquely shocking that others find it appealing, and full of white people. She doesn't even live metro accessibly.

So after some spiteful awkwardness, fun times, drinks, cheese, and ranch and vegetables, we head back to the city. It was odd how relieved I was to get back into the city where there is entertainment more abundantly than every mile or so. Fucking Virginia. So my roommate and I grab a beer at the Getaway while we wait for others to get up to Zeba, which is right across the street (why does anyone live in Virginia/like Nickelback?) for a gentleman's combo (Yuengling and a shot of Jameson).

On the obligatory stop at Giant on the way back after said beer/shot combination, I get a thing of gouda, fried chicken wings, and hit in the face with a giant package of toilet paper by my roommate. There is a chance I will be all over youtube for that one if an employee there takes the time to put the night's security tape up. I'm not looking forward to that.

So sometime in the future we (as in my roommates and me) are going to have a casino party at my house. You should come. In order to practice/prepare/have fun we bought the games, such as craps and roulette, in advance and have been playing ever since. So, the moral of story, other than if you are going to be homeless make sure you have an ID, Brass Monkey and Virginia are terrible, Nickelback is even worse, and my house is better than yours, is that even fake gambling is addicting.

Thanksgiving Weekend 2011

You know how that goes, what with the friends, family, food, and drink in copious amounts.

And the parties at friends' houses, sleeping in really late, eating a lot of really good thanksgiving-type food, playing the Wii loudly when your mother tells you to be quiet because she has to work soon which is hard to do when you are just so good at wii tennis, almost going Black Friday shopping at midnight but choosing not to to watch a show that proved people in the 80s were collectively insane, walking 18 holes of golf, heading to the local townie bar with the other townies/friends, playing a lot of scrabble, meeting up with college friends, more Wii, regrettably going to the local casino, winning $100 dollars immediately at the local casino then losing it almost as quickly, staying at the casino way past last call/when your ride is there so you catch a cab home in a town where no one takes cabs so it ends up costing way more than expected but that might be from the stop at Wawa for buffalo wing flavored cheese buffs that you substitute for their lack of actual fried chicken, then waking up a few hours later for the trip back home/from home or is it parents' house while being the center of attention/source of entertainment on the ride by starting conversation with real thinkers like which song would you karaoke which for me would be shadowplay by joy division/the killers or airplanes by local natives because of the highpitchedness of some parts of those songs and where are you going to retire if you know 40 years ahead of the fact which you know for me is Knoxville, TN and what is your favorite city, etc.

Then you take a five hour nap because that's an exhausting weekend.

A Significant Amount of Time in Delaware 2011

I realize this weblog is becoming a weekend diary of my drinkingcapades and therefore probably pretty lame and cliche, which, given the author, was inevitable. But, again, it was either being social at night on the weekend or preserving energy to go and be touristy during the day. There definitely isn't room for both. Maybe if I got more sleep during the week there would be, but that's just overambitious and unrealistic. So I choose to be social because it's better for my self-esteem. I apologize if you come here to learn about neat ways to go out and experience your nation's capital. I do hope you enjoy reading how I go out and such, but I understand if you do not. If that is the case, I am not sure why you have continued reading for so long. Check that. Yes I do. I'm moderately to very funny. And immodest. But you don't come here for the immodesty. Maybe you do, though, so you can be like, "well at least I am not like, Jeff," which probably covers multiple reasons why people read this. I'm embarrassed.

Whatever. This has always been about me and not you anyway.

So let me tell you how I drink too much, last weekend version. (I really hope no one that matters reads this and makes a judgement of me based on this fact. Maybe I should start writing about my inner thoughts and feelings that make me appear like a decent human being, rather than my Friday-Sunday actions that make me appear worthless.) So, if you are someone that only knows me based on this blog, here is how I am an OK person:

1. I carry a dollar bill in my pocket at all times and give it to any homeless/beggar person that asks for change.
2. I am going to law school to be a public interest lawyer, which means the kind that is not in it for the money. On a related note, if you're rich and want to pay for my law school so that I am not a severely indebted person upon graduation, leave me your contact information in the comments section and we can discuss payment options. Thanks in advance.

That's about it. Sorry for bragging. It was necessary for damage control.

But really, all the drinking isn't entirely my fault. Take Friday for example. I had every intention of staying in and watching a movie with a bottle of wine when my roommate came home, liked the wine idea, got out another bottle, and FORCED me to play "Jeopardy, Drinking Version."

Then, Saturday, I was going to go be a tourist but, you know how drinking wine is, I slept in a little late. And my roommates wanted to go play basketball so I couldn't turn down that opportunity to burn some wine-related calories.

Saturday night: I thought we were going to just go out and have a few drinks at a bar on U St. Then a friend asks "should we pregame?" Well, shit, I am not going to just say no, because I am nice like that (add that to the list above at #3), so we do that for a little while at my house while watching Tennessee win their first (FIRST?! It's November! You probably knew that, though. That it's November, that is. But you probably knew that it was Tennessee's first conference win, too, since probably all two of you that read this graduated with me from there.) SEC game then head out to meet up with people at Policy.

Which reminds me: let's talk about the most pretentious experience of your life. Good talk. Mine was Saturday night at Policy--a nightmare of a bar.

So, if you don't know, Policy is the type of bar where normal people plan during the day to go there and are like "hey, we're going to go to policy tonight because i want to make myself pretty and i want to dance and i want to do this in a crowded area with house music being played. oh and i want to have to wait for like an hour before i can get upstairs to experience all this because i want those that are sitting at the bar near the line to get upstairs to know that i am serious about wanting to have a "good time" after that big bouncer guy let's me past him."

When we arrived there we were those at the bar downstairs. Then we walked outside to leave because we were not those people that wait in line. Then, inexplicably, my friend said he got us a table upstairs. Then he said we got bottle service and it's going to be like $250. I then said I am not paying that much to drink liquor at this place. That did not deter him. Next thing I know we are at a table, roped off in the corner of the room with all the others that I described above dancing up until the rope that segregates our special area with their not-so-special one. And people look at us. And I am grimacing at this fact. And the one that deals with that I am roped off, but it might as well be encaged or englassed, getting served champagne and vodka in a bar where people are moving in no particular manner because it's house music and no one there listens to house music on a normal basis. Then my friend notices my grimace but I say I am having a good time because I would not want to hurt his feelings, he who paid for the liquor, because I am nice like that (reason #4).

Then I start drinking and I relax.

Then I go to the bathroom where some guy tries to have a conversation but I cannot hear him because of said house music, but would probably have ignored him anyway because we're in line for the bathroom, which is a good time to be left alone. And he tells my other friend in line that I am less of a person for not engaging in conversation with him.

Then I go up to the bachelorette party in the other blocked-off area near us and ask for one of their glow-in-the-dark bracelets. And they give me one.

We leave when the lights come on, and that experience is over. I will not be doing that unless it is a special occasion ever again. Promise.

Then I ate a lot at JJ's Cheesesteaks. Which reminds me: I suck at not being a borderline fat person. Because: earlier in the night I had chinese food and my fortune read as such: The night life is for you. Not a fortune, but accurate all the same. (You see, all this drinking is out of my control. Even the fortune cookie god recognizes that. Why can't you, judgey mcjudgerson?)

I was awake Sunday morning. I was not happy about this fact, but I had promised to go to a casino in Delaware with my roommates to gamble on NFL football games. We leave at 9am because they want to do some traditional gambling, as well.

You've probably been to a casino before, and may even had been there with me, so I will not bore you with the details, regardless of what the title of this post may have led you to believe was going to be written here, mostly because they involve a lot of losing money, which is depressing. I suck at guessing which football team will win/lose to another within a certain number of points. And that one time I won $500 on roulette was a fluke, apparently.

However, we did have a little competition to see who could get the oldest person to touch them because there are a lot of them at casinos. My one roommate started talking to this old lady about this slot machine game we were playing. Laughs were shared and as she was leaving she ever so gently touched my shoulder.

So I have that going for me.

Veteran's Day Weekend 2011

So my sister called me fat this weekend.

And she'll deny this and say she said "fatter", but it takes fat to become fatter, so I heard correctly and she called me fat.

Back story:

It was a federal holiday on Friday, Veteran's Day, so me and my roommate had off from work. We had gone out the night before because it was Thursday and Thursdays are the new Fridays, remember, and were not feeling too up to getting up during the day and being productive because it was a big night where I ended up on my neighbor's floor playing tug-of-war with her cat. We were well on our way to spending the day on the couch watching Scrubs, How I Met Your Mother, and other funny comedies when the idea of eating food was broached, per usual. I said I had just eaten, because I had, and he said something like "chinese buffet." Nothing else had to be said and we were on our way to Hyattsville to the UTC China Buffet (I would link that but they don't have a website). Since the Philadelphia Phillies are worthless and the most disappointing thing in my life, this one was free for me.

Four plates later and that was the last thing I ate on Friday, and I thought maybe longer.

And then my sister and her friend arrived. Shortly thereafter she called me fat.

After waiting for like 3 hours for them to get ready I was able to tell them that, contrary to what they seemed to believe, going out in DC is not a beauty pageant and they would not be able to get those hours they spend doing whatever they do back at any point in their life. Eventually we got the night started off with food (them) and drinks (me) at The Getaway. You know how I am an awkward person? Well, our waitress that night made me look like the most socially competent person in the world the way she stood hovering over our table staring weirdly and all other sorts of awkwardness all night. So that made me feel good about myself/not so good about The Getaway.

Now, when I was in Bloomsburg, PA, the bar that was the favorite of my sister and her friend was this place called The Capitol, which is a logical title for a bar located in a small town in the middle of the state having nothing to do with the capital/capitol. So I thought to myself: where is there a bar in DC where I will be surrounded by way too many people of the type I would not enjoy, since I am judgmental and all, that may or may not be dancing. We DCers came up with either Public Bar or Front Page. So we tried Public Bar because a couple years ago we were at this bar that was called something else back then for New Year's Eve and wanted to get nostalgic.

Well, it was a lot like we expected with the way too many people, so we didn't last long there. So we mixed it up and tried Mackey's, where we were like the only people. After a couple drinks there we hopped on over to Rumors but, luckily, there was a cover so we avoided that and ended up at 19th Hole.

Here's the hearsay: 19th Hole was pretty empty too so, for some reason, we received some free drinks for being there. A classic 90s song came on and I started doing my helicopter dance with my jacket. Then, all of a sudden, I get up without saying anything to anyone, I not-so-discreetly grab a poster that is rolled up on a table next to us and even less discreetly try to carry it out past the security guy at the door who immediately stops me, takes the poster, and says I have to leave. And then I turned down my first food since 430pm while at Ben's Chili Bowl and there went Friday.

The next day my sister and I get up early have the most delightful day as tourists ever. We start out in Chinatown so we can go by where Lincoln was shot and where he died across the street. Odd idea for a tourist stop I think, really. Almost as odd as the number of Asian people in Chinatown given how un-chinese the town is. Oh, I feel so bad for the Asian people I see getting off at the Gallery Place metro stop because I am so certain of the inevitable disappointment they will have when walking out into DC's version of Times Square that at one point was probably a legitimate Chinatown but is now a well-lit area with a Chinese arch and Chinese symbols on places like Ruby Tuesday's. Classic.

Anyway.

Then my sister and I walk on down past the White House to the Washington Monument along the not-currently-reflecting pool to the Lincoln Memorial and down to the Jefferson Memorial. Then we catch a cab on over to Georgetown to walk along beautiful M St. with her friends. Truly a great touristy day. And think, I could have ended up hung over in bed all day from drinking a decent amount while not eating all night. Close one.

Then: Columbia Heights Bar Crawl 2011 (after pho at Pho Viet, of course. which reminds me: DC stop being dumbies and eating at Pho 14 all the time when pho is pretty much all the same so if you're paying more you are not not acting in your own best interest, which is absolutely the case if you choose Pho 14 over Pho Viet. but, really, don't take up seats at Pho Viet because it is getting to be winter so I will want to go there more often and I don't want to have to wait. who am I talking to when I write things like this? good question, me.).

So I decided I would try to grow out a mustache. And by that I mean that when it came time to shave on Friday I shaved everything except the area above my lip where more testosterone-laden men grow mustaches. And I left the house pointing this out to everyone I saw, stroking it ever so weirdly for everyone around me. I didn't receive one positive comment and most involved the words "creepy" and "pedophiliac", which I thought was insensitive given all that's going on with Penn State. But I didn't take this personally as I knew that given time I would look awesome, as always.

Anyway.

We started at Wonderland. Then we went on over to Meridian Pint and met up with a couple other groups of people and had a couple drinks there. Then we walked on over to Lou's. When we got there, it was suspiciously well-lit. Once we got out of the bathroom, it was only then that the worker people decided to tell us that, for some idiotic reason, they already had last call before 1230. So we went over to Acre 121 where they also already had last call, but at least they let us get a round, which is all we were hoping for given it was a bar crawl. Lou you're dumb.

Next stop: Alero on 14th. That is an odd place with the painting of naked Harry Potter and way too loud reggaeton for the 13 people in the bar. But we made the best of it and moved on.

Last stop: Zeba. They have their own version of a gentlemen's combo, a Yuengling and a shot of Jameson, so we do one of those and some people dance the night away while others sit and watch and chit-chat. And, per usual, we stop at Giant for some fried chicken and smoke the hookah when we get back to the house.

The next day we are at brunch at The Heights at 14th and Kenyon with their wonderfully delicious fish tacos. For some reason, my sister's friend wasn't going to finish her sandwich, so I did the honors. The waitress said I was the hero of the day for not wasting the food. And, you know what, I was. Thanks, waitress, for pointing that out. It really needs to be said more often. To me.

So I have that going for me.

And then I shaved my "mustache", partially because I didn't have the courage to go to work like that but mostly because I was going to a law school open house and had to wear a name badge and I didn't want to get labeled as the creepster with the adolescent-like mustache and pretty much ruin my chances at getting in.

Daylight Savings Ends 2011

FYI: I hope that when you read this the voice telling the pointless stories of how I leave the house on the weekends is that of Delilah from the radio. Her voice really emphasizes what I am trying to say.

Did I ever tell you I hate tucking in my shirt? Yes, I did. But I thought I'd repeat it. I'm lowering my standards and making not having to tuck in my shirt half my criteria for a future job. The other quarters are make over $11320100986 and the work day starts after lunch. Please advise if you know where I can find this.

It's kind of a misnomer to have one period of the year called day light savings time and the other something I am not sure what since it's not like when you turn back the clocks--which I think, as you probably remember, is a bologna idea--you are eliminating the daylight, you're just having it around at an earlier hour of the day.

You know, I am always telling you about my weekend but I never ask you about yours. Forgive me for being so rude. So, dear reader, how was your weekend? Did you enjoy the nice weather? Did you go out or did you stay in and relax or be productive in some way? In any case, I hope it was swell and you slept well.

Anyway. Enough about you, this is about me.

We almost had a run-in with Local 16. Whew! I don't know if you remember but this is the bar that I despise and where once during the summer I was asked to bribe my way in, which I of course refused to do and so was refused a swifter entry. Well, my one friend recommended it, which was OK with me when I thought there would be other ladies accompanying her. When it turned out it would be her and a few guys there was no way Local 16 was kept on the board.

So we went to Lost Society on 14th and U instead. It's a fancy pants bar. I think I knew this going into the experience, but I never put in the effort to wear anything other than the t-shirt and zip-up hooded sweatshirt I had on all day. Not sure why. Amateurism. Cognitive dissonance maybe. Ignorance probably. Lack of experience with fancy pants bars too, most likely. Luckily, they let me in.

And you know what? It was a good time. Once I shot down my friend's suggestion for Local 16 earlier in the day she said she just wanted to go to a "fun bar." I told her that I don't know what that means as I have pretty much the same experience at all bars, with the company I am in being the variable of fun. Except for bars with shuffleboard tables. Those are fun. Fancy pants bars like Lost Society would not have been on my list of bars that I would qualify as "fun," but the company, shots, and house music that forces you to move at least one part if not your entire body made it an enjoyable experience.

It was also at this bar where I realized I have come a long way since I started this bloggy and have gotten away from the touristy side of it. But isn't interpersonal interaction much more fun than being a tourist? Yeah, it is. "But can't you do both?" you're probably wondering. I don't know. Give it a try and write a blog about it, skeptic.

So then we went to the jumbo slice place on U St. for some jumbo slices of pizza and chicken wings, to which I think I am moderately addicted. Which reminds me, once I stop spending so much money out at bars I am going to go on a taste tour of the best wings places in the city and write about it here. It will be a delightful read.

Then we ended up at Judy Restaurant on 14th. No, it's not Judy's, it actually is just Judy Restaurant. It's a Salvadoran place. Now, it's not hard to find a bar in the Columbia Heights area where people are mainly speaking Spanish. What is difficult is to find one where most of the people are young, working professionals where the white people are speaking Spanish, too. If you are looking for this type of place, Judy Restaurant is your place.

Besides, not becoming a fat person is taking more of a priority than doing touristy things, anyway, if I may continue my earlier thought of getting away from the original purpose of going out and doing all the fun things in DC. Well, if I put it that way, maybe I am not getting away from the original purpose. Yeah, we'll go with that.

So Saturday, in attempt to be an active person and take advantage of the nice weather, me and a few of my roommates went out and kicked soccer balls together. That was nice.

Are you a college football fan? Of course you are. Me too. Saturday I double whammied two of my short-term goals: become a regular at The Getaway and watch the LSU-Alabama game, which, admittedly, was a really, really short-term and easily attainable goal. But everyone needs goals like this to boost their self-esteem, especially when they have worked on their other goals of being able to run a six minute mile about 1.5 times. You would not believe how good I felt about myself after watching that game at The Getaway. So good, in fact, that I went to the store and treated myself to the greatest treat of all, fried chicken. (Seriously.) Fried chicken from Giant has overtaken Johnny's as the go-to for late night food in Columbia Heights. For me, at least (exclusively probably).

On Sunday, I really wanted to go and do something all DC-like that would be good for this blog. It's Foto Week here in DC (Yeah, it is actually spelled with an 'f' and I thought about boycotting it for that fact. I wonder who had the idea to try to name the thing to appeal to adolescent girls? That person(s) should be fired.) and there was a really interesting sounding event with Human Rights Watch that I wanted to attend. But when I went out to get a bikeshare to ride down there, they were all taken in the stations around my house, so I took that for a sign that it was not to be. Along with the fact that I left the house 15 minutes before it was to begin. I blame having to turn back the clocks. Sure, I gained an hour of sleep and should have been ready to leave the house that much earlier instead of sleeping so late, but...well I have nothing to say to counter that because it's right.

So another Moe's is coming to DC. My roommate heard the construction in L'Enfant Plaza on Saturday. On Sunday, my roommate was going to Chipotle, which I thought was lame, so once the photo thing plans went awry I decided I would head down to 13th and F to see if the one that already exists was open as I had it on my mind. It was not. But that's OK because I had just eaten and probably didn't need to eat a burrito at that moment.

On the way down I heard that song Still Dre by Doctor Dre. When was the last time you heard that song? I really like the beat of that song. And it was better than the song that I had in my head at the time for some reason, Beautiful by James Blunt, which I think a roommate was singing to me the night before. It happens.

And then I turned down S St. and BOOM there's the Freemason building. Just pops up on you.

Also on the way there I passed the impressively large protest in Lafayette Sqaure against the absurd proposal to have a pipeline that transports very dirty tar sands oil from Canada (Canada!) to Texas. So I stopped by and lent my support in person for a few minutes, but it's always there in spirit. I admit, my convictions are fickle. I wasn't always like this. Bummer.

Since I was out I decided to keep it that way and meet up with my roommate that was at a bar in Foggy Bottom. After spending some time there, I decided to walk home because the weather was just lovely and you never know what is going to happen when you're out just strolling along.

Well, nothing happened except passing by lots of pretty houses, which, btw, is the BEST thing about DC. Not debatable.

Then, later that evening, I finally finished a book that I had been reading for way too long and in the process realized it is in books where I can get some more emotional variety to my life.

Halloween 2011

So we're on the metro and somehow Casey Anthony comes up. I believe what we were discussing was our potential Halloween costumes and someone said they'd bet they would see a bunch of people dressed up as Casey Anthony. It was never really determined how one would go about dressing up as her but that's not the point. I then asked the guys involved, if they had the chance, would they date her given she is mildly attractive. Then it skipped to would anyone date anyone that had been in prison. I said I would definitely date Martha Stewart, who has been to prison, because she's rich as hell and she's old so there's a chance she might not be around too long for me to have to share her money with her.

This was not received well, so I had to explain that I am not that great of a person and really the only reason I am in DC is for the potential for a wealthy spouse. Again, not well received. And people didn't think she was that old. So, later when I got home I looked her up on the wikipedia. It turns out she is like 70, which is adequately old, used to be a model, which has got to be worth something, and--brace yourself for this one--HAS BEEN STRUCK BY LIGHTNING THREE TIMES. Now it was late when I looked this up so maybe I just caught the page when an editor had been sleeping, but, really, how long can someone that has been struck by lightning three times live? Does anyone know if Martha Stewart is looking to rob the cradle and, if so, where she lives?

Anyway.

As you probably know, it was Halloween this past weekend. I feel obligated to give a history of the holiday here, but I won't because I don't know it and don't really want to look it up. I guess I could have done without this paragraph.

Maybe it has to do with the fact that I watch a lot of episodes of the situational comedies Friends and How I Met Your Mother, but I had the brilliant idea last week to try to become a regular at a bar/coffee shop. Guess which type of establishment won out? Yeah, I don't really have any regular coffee drinking friends. Although I wish I did. Part of me wants to be that type of person that goes to coffee shops and sits around and waxes philosophical. But I don't really have philosophical friends, I am not that philosophical, and coffee shops aren't open that late so I would just eventually go out to a bar afterwards anyway because all that caffeinated energy needs to be spent somewhere.

So I propose The Getaway on 14th St. in Columbia Heights because it does not seem to get super crowded, which is good because who wants to be a regular at a bar that they may not always be able to get into like Meridian Pint or Lou's, and it's close to home. The other prerequisite was that they have to have a $3 beer. They do not outside the hours of 5-7pm.

So I meet my one roommate there around 6 on Friday. Eventually three other roommates come on by because they just could not miss out on the Potential Bar At Which We Will Become Regulars Tryout Night. Now on the television shows they are always talking about funny things and their conversations flow so well and if I know how to do anything it's start a conversation. So I ask, "Hey roommates, what do you guys want to talk about?" That didn't go as planned and I will skip ahead a little bit and bring you to the point where I say, "Hey roommates, since there are seven of us, which of the seven dwarfs do you think each one of us is?"

I regret asking this because the result was me feeling like my roommates don't know me. I was unanimously labeled Sleepy. And for the seven deadly sins I was sloth.

One day I am going to leave this town and start over and find people who will get to know me for who I am rather than the fact that I get very little sleep during the week so try to make it up on the weekends while they have consistent sleep schedules that do not reach abnormal hours of the day. It's basic fucking arithmetic. I sleep less during the week but more on the weekends. Let's add it up and I am sure, overall, I get less sleep than most people.

Anyway.

After The Getaway, we tried out this hole in the wall Latino bar that is always empty by our house, Acuario, and it was even emptier than we expected. So The Getaway is now our bar where we will try to be regulars.

So I had a couple friends from home come down for the halloween weekend. After they get here on Friday night we head on over to Adams Morgan, per their request. The idea was to find some place where we can dance. Not my idea, mind you, but the idea. We know of Brass Monkey and Grand Central. Luckily, both were packed beyond an acceptable level, so we ended up at Leaky Faucet, which has never once ended well on account of $3 PBR tallboys and $10 mini pitchers of captain and coke. But there weren't really any other options.

Eventually, we want to go to a bar that I did not know the name of but found out is called Duplex at 18th and U. So we walk down there and, upon getting there, find that it is nothing like last year and is closed and resembling some sort of a restaurant.

So we head on over to Nellie's on like 9th and U because I am comfortable enough with my masculinity to say that I am attracted to men. Kidding. I am not that masculine. Anyway. That is where we end the night. And on our way out my one roommate sees a lady dressed as Where's Waldo and says, "hey waldo!" And she shrugs him off or something similar verbally and, with possibly the funniest/quippiest thing he has ever done, curses her and says, "I hope you get lost, Waldo." You had to be there?

Then it acted like January and got cold and started snowing on Saturday.  Jesus, you want to explain that one?

Luckily, our halloween plans consisted of riding around on a bus and drinking, which are notoriously warming activities. And I know you have been reading this whole time wondering what I dressed up as. Well, I went as myself, a blessing in disguise. While wearing a shirt that said 'i am a blessing' and one of those classic glasses, nose, and mustache combination funny face things. Don't act like you didn't know I was that clever.

So I spent halloween riding around by all the monuments and the nation's capital drinking in a party bus with 30 other people. Eventually we stopped at a bar called My Brother's Place, where I once got a girlfriend, but this time just took the chance to watch the end of the Stanford-USC game, which was exhilarating. Then we drove around more until we ended up at the Biergarten Haus on H St. You know, the one from last weekend. It is here where we meet up with a couple friends of my friend, one of whom she would like to set me up with. And then I do my best to act like a normal human being capable of comfortable interactions, but fail pretty thoroughly. I was told she is awkward, as well, but she says something like are you excited for our date and I respond by saying something too honest like I'm quite terrified actually [of the thought of having to try to convince another human being to want to spend time with me and saying things that are not too honest or intrusive or arrogant or ignorant or anything else resembling my natural disposition]. Luckily, for everyone, that didn't last long so we jump back on the bus and we called it a night.

So Sunday was a full day, too. First there was brunch at Red Rocks. Then there was football and such at Lou's. Then I spent the rest of my day at my friend's watching football.

Is that the end of my blogworthy weekend? No. To further solidify our status as regulars at The Getaway, we head on over there after my roommate gets off of work on Monday. And we are sitting there acting like we belong and such when actual regulars come in that are recognized by the bartender. They get to talking and the regulars mention how they have a friend that would like to find a bar that would host their competitive karaoke league. The bar people are excited about this prospect and my roommate and I are rethinking The Getaway as our bar. And maybe DC in general because that's an embarrassingly terrible idea.

Then we overhear one of the regulars talking about how Chipotle is giving away $2 burritos if you wear a costume. Well, naturally, this was too good to be true. Their website says it has to be a family farm related costume. As graduates of the University of Tennessee, it is only natural that we have all orange jumpsuits. I remember this fact and BOOM we're carrots. So we carrot on up and head on over to Chipotle even though we just ate because we are gluttonous and awesome.

It turns out we were the only ones that know about the dressing like a farm related object when we get there and we are the only ones dressed up in the line that extends out the door. So last year they had a deal where, if you wore aluminum foil on your head, you would get $2 burritos and, for some stupid reason, this was accepted this year as well. So after an hour waiting, which may or may not have been worth it, we get to show off our costumes  that turn out not to be worth anymore than someone wearing a piece of fucking aluminum foil to the burrito makers even though the website says nothing about this.

Luckily, I didn't really have any pride going into this situation, so I enjoyed my burrito bowl all the same.

October 22 and Such, 2011

So I have developed quite a little routine in my life. It consists of going out and eating and drinking then participating in athletic activities in order to counterbalance the effects of said eating and drinking. Yeah, it's a tough life I lead. Or appear to lead. Case in point (boom), Thursdays.

Now one thing you should know about DC is that everyone plays soccer. It probably has to do with the fact that DC is such an internationally cognizant city that we all try to solidify our place in the bigger picture that is the world by playing soccer. Or it's that no one really knows anyone when they get here because it's so transient that one way to meet people is through a social activity and since everyone in DC is all fit and such (Only like Boulder, CO is more active. Look it up.) they combine being active and social into one thing and soccer (and softball and kick ball) are easy to put together. Anyway, what I was trying to get at is that on Thursdays I play soccer and then we go out and drink.

Now I can't do this every night, so I have been sacrificing Fridays, including that last one. Sorry Friday. Please don't hold it against me. It's work's fault, really. I have all this momentum going during the week that when it is all said and done (and it is definitely done for me when I leave. sorry for you if it's not.) all I really want to do is sleep. Or get law school applications done, which, coincidentally, is what happened last Friday. Not sure what I am going to do when those are done. Probably go out on Fridays, too.  Or get a second job to pay for my socializing. Having friends is expensive.

Do you remember when I went to the beirgarten in DC called the Biergarten Haus on Memorial Day Weekend 2011? If not, there are links to all the different posts I have had over the course of this bloggy on the right. I am not going to do that, though, because I went back Saturday and I don't want to be held responsible for knowing what I wrote the last time in case I repeat what I said then.

Well, me and a couple friends had the idea to get to the Biergarten Haus somewhat early on Saturday to beat the crowd, which, in hindsight, is my excuse for not being a cool person Friday and staying in. So at like 1230 we head on over. Then we drink liters (LITERS) of october fest beer while chewing the fat and watching college football. Please keep that chewing the fat phrase in mind. It will make another appearance shortly. But, if you don't, that is OK, I will remind you.

Then, after the liters of beer drinking, the eating of a delectable burger, the spending of way too much money on the things I just mentioned, and the passing of several hours, I go home because Tennessee is on TV and sitting around drinking all day is way more exhausting that one would think. And I had to get up early on Sunday to counter all the drinking with a soccer game at 10am and had I stayed out that would not be possible for me.

Early moral of the story: Sundays are for sleeping in. Fact. Not adhering to this is just unwise. Things are just too quiet about the city at that hour for this not to be true.

But you know what? The earlier you wake up, the earlier you are able to get out and do things when the time is right.

So I decided to utilize my early readiness to go out and be a productive person, even more than I already had been by participating in a recreational soccer game that ended in a tie. So, what do I do? I decide that I should probably finish up this law school stuff and go somewhere in the city I have never been before. The blogworthy location of the week is Big Bear Cafe in a neighborhood that I thought was Bloomingdale but apparently is actually one called Eckington, which I have never heard of before.

So, even though I am not a hipster, or least I, who tries to be as unstereotypical as possible, do not consider myself to be one, I am considered the hipster of my house of seven people. But those standards are low. In any case, a friend of a roommate that used to come by used to be like, "hey have you ever heard of Big Bear Cafe? you should come down, i think you would really like it." I did not know why this was being said to me because it is a coffee shop and if I am going to go to a coffee shop I am going to go to one much closer to my house. Then I found out it is like hipster central in DC and assumed this girl also saw me as a hipster and thought I would enjoy being around other hipsters. Wrong and wrong. But I was intrigued. So I am probably a little bit of a hipster but moreso I am more of a person intrigued by places I have not been.

So I get down there and while at first I was just nervous about not fitting in at this coffee shop like I am at every other one I go into because I am not familiar their local customs or the number of regulars, I was also nervous about not being hipster enough. But that did not deter me nor cause me to doll myself up in my best hipster gear available (read: party pants).

And then I found a regular.

Do you remember when I asked that you remember the "chew the fat" phrase? Well, after some chewing of the small fat with this regular, we got to the bigger pieces until eventually I asked him if he knew of the etymology (insight into Jeff's likes and interests interlude: I love etymology, or the study of the origin of words) of the phrase "chewing the fat."

And this is what he said because it didn't take too much time for me to figure out that he was one of those quite wise middle aged guys that even I enjoy speaking to:

"Well I think it was the Depression when it first came about. Obviously, there was a lot of unemployment, like twice as much as there is now, if you can believe that [I can't]. And these hobos, who previously were hardworking men because back then there wasn't really any other type of work, would make their way around town and the country by foot and hitchhiking and train hopping. For many people during this era, especially the poor, good food was hard to come by, so every part of the animal possible was eaten. Most everyone would eat any part, except the tendons and other difficult to digest parts like that. These parts became known as the fat, even though they are not quite. Anyway, these vagabonds would congregate out behind restaurants and places where they knew people would be discarding scraps of food. They actually developed a reputation for this activity, so much so that once the scraps were handed out, which very often included a lot of the tendons and animal parts like that they would sit around talking while trying to chew them, the fat. Next thing you know, all sitting around and conversing is known as "chewing the fat." "

Learning. That is how you know your day is well spent. I really should talk to people more often.

But yeah, I didn't get any of that law school stuff. Another side effect of being a social human being: not being as productive.

DC Area Brewery Tour 2011

Hey reader, you know how I have been using the phrase "point and case," or something like that? Well, after coming across the correct usage of this combination of words like twice over the last couple weeks, which is "case in point," I feel like an idiot. And I blame you. Why didn't you tell me that I have been making this mistake? I don't know what would make me feel less intelligent/more embarrassed, realizing the mistake on my own or someone else pointing it out to me, but a little heads up would have been nice. But I have learned from my mistake and I am all the better for it. Maybe it was better this way. 

So DC is an expensive city. It probably has something to do with the fact that it is the richest metropolitan area in the country. There are plenty of free things to do, but they are not nearly as fun as the things that cost money. Or at least this is what I tell myself as I watch my paycheck diminish swiftly upon its direct deposit into my bank account.

So let's talk about last weekend. Well, I had work on Friday but, for all intents and purposes (is this how the phrase goes?), it started on Thursday. Do you remember how I am on a social soccer league team? Well, our game was canceled Thursday so we did just the social stuff. We went to Rocket Bar in Chinatown and, somehow, in like 3 hours I spent like $50. Not sure how that is even possible.

So Friday I decided to take it easy. Since just sitting in my house watching Friends is not blogworthy, or acceptable for a 26 year-old "man," (does anyone know if in situations like this the comma goes inside or outside the "?) I decided to go see a movie at E St. Well, just like the last independent film that I saw, I do not think I know the type of person that would enjoy this film. It was called The Mill and the Cross. Basically it's about this Polish guy's interpretation of the medieval painting The Way to Calvary in which he follows everyone in the painting around just living life with some commentary by the painter himself.

Which reminds me, did I ever tell you I am half Polish. Probably not. Not sure why I am now either except for the fact that I remember thinking about writing this very sentence while watching the movie but now forgetting where I was going to go with it.

Then I decided to walk home. I would say it is about 1.5 miles, which isn't far, but there's a lot going on in that distance. But here's why I did it: there are times when I am just walking on down the street and I will think to myself how I wish I had my camera to take a picture of something random that I come across. So, since going to see a movie by oneself is not the most blogworthy occurrence, I brought my camera with me and hoped that by walking home I would come across random things to photograph and put on this, or, better yet, something wild and random would occur that I could write about.

Yeah, none of those really happened. Per usual, I just took a bunch of pictures of neat buildings along the way. But here are some of the things I did put enough thought into taking a picture of:

Occupy DC in Freedom Plaza. I appreciate the enthusiasm, I just wish there were more coherent demands (like a tax on stock trades and a hefty tax increase on the super rich).

I like both of these buildings and that they are right next to one another.

This is a house that was once a Laundry business.

I can't say that I have ever seen cars park in the middle of the street like this anywhere outside of Philadelphia.

Anyway. There is a very small area of DC in which I spend most of my free time. Most of it centers around Columbia Heights and just about all of it falls in NW. On Saturday, given the momentum I had from last weekend, I convinced my roommate to go take a brewery tour of one of DC's breweries, DC Brau. Well, while driving through NE to the brewery my NW-centric life was vindicated as there was nothing really there other than residences, which made me feel better about myself. And yeah, I know this isn't entirely true as there is H St. in NE, etc. But for the most part I haven't found a reason to spend time having fun outside of NW.

So we're at DC Brau sitting there drinking our four free samples of their beer and we realize that we are in the middle of an enjoyable situation. So we think about the potential of going to other breweries in the area. I know there are a couple more in the city proper, but they don't have tasting rooms. I do know, however, that Port City in Alexandria has one. We see that it is open until 5pm. It is 330pm. Jackpot.

Port City has the best tasting room of the DC area microbreweries. For $5 you get five tastings of their four beers and you get to keep the little glass! But DC Brau and Port City are for two very different crowds. At DC Brau, it was all young people from the city, naturally, while at Port City it was more of an older, wealthier white people crowd. So it only makes sense that DC Brau's beers are bolder and unique, while Port City's are quite subdued and by-the-book in taste. I would take one of DC Brau's over any one of Port City's, but when taken as a whole I think I would prefer Port City's.

Anyway. At this point we didn't want this budding brewery tour to end. I knew that there was a place called Mad Fox in the area. Luckily, a smartphone was in our midst, so we look that shit up and head on over there. On the way, we are stopped at a light and a Party City pops up right next to us. Halloween is right around a couple corners and we are not the costume types, so, yes, we will stop there. I spend $4 and have my costume.

Then we are walking back to the car when my roommate says something like "you will be excited at an above normal level if you look to your right." "Well, what do we have here," I exclaim. A Moe's delivery van. Yes, that Moe's. My BFF. The jesus was like, "Hey, Jeff, you know you have a pretty nice Saturday going for you? Well, it's about to get all kinds of awesomer." Needless to say, we stopped at the Moe's right up the road and enjoyed every ounce of it.

Driving onward, we come across a Dogfish Head Alehouse on our right. My roommate and I look at each other. He asks, "Are we doing this?" Yes, yes we are. And we did. Unlike most breweries, you couldn't choose your samples. For $9 they give you a standard five with their seasonal. Not our favorites.

And we still had Mad Fox to get to. At this point the smartphone was dead but luckily we had looked it up earlier. This one is in downtown Fairfax, which is a fancy pants locale, and the brewpub was the nicest brewery that I have ever been to in terms of fanciness of the people and decor. And the beer was all right. We are not yet satisfied enough to call it a day yet so we ask the bartender if there are any other brewpubs nearby. He says Sweetwater Tavern and gives us directions since we are smartphoneless.

Predictably, we get lost. How did people do it before smartphones? Probably the same way we did it: stop at your local gas station and hope someone there knows what you're talking about. I ask the attendant lady if she knows where it is but she does not. What we think is lucky for us, this random guy directs us there. Except he directs us in the opposite direction. And we end up in Clarendon. Which is not where we want to be. Ever. Now this is not that far from home, but you're crazy if you think we're giving up. We have until 1am to get there and we eventually do after calling them and asking how we arrive at their establishment.

I've actually been to Sweetwater before (my growler is from there--which I had every intention of bringing with me to DC Brau but DC does not consider pop-top growlers to be closed containers. Classic case of not understanding what 'closed' means.) but they actually have all different kinds of beer on tap this time. But they are similarly as bland as the others because I am a beer snob and have these types of opinions. But it was worth it all the same.

Now I know what you're thinking, "I can't believe you drank all that and drove around!!" OK, take it easy. We only had little 4oz samples all day. Over the course of 10 hours we had the equivalent of 7 beers, which, high horse rider, is below the legal limit.

Also what you're thinking: "How does one cap off a wonderful day like that?" Chinese food from Johnnys on 14th. The go-to for cheap food in Columbia Heights. No delivery, though, so if you live within walking distance consider yourself very lucky.

Then I went to Lou's and acted all American and watched professional football on Sunday, which sounds in character, but is actually out as the only reason I pay any attention to professional football is for fantasy football, which with Moe's is one of the best things to ever happen to me.

And there went my pay check.

Drinking in Denver, CO 2011

Hello there, dear reader. Oh so long it has been since I have last updated you on my life, weekend version. OK, it has only been two weeks. But I hoped you missed me like I missed you. Let me tell you why there is nothing documented on this blog about the weekend before the last one as that is a common question I have received and would like to clarify that here.

Number one reason: I was saving money/energy to go to Denver during the dates of October 6-10, which is what this post is about.

Number two: my prime reason for visiting Denver was to take advantage of all the microbreweries in the city with the most in the US and I was told that this would be kind of difficult, in addition to the sheer number of them, given the altitude. I spent a good part of the previous weekend practicing my drinking while participating in a fantasy football draft in order to up my tolerance to the altitude. A fantasy football draft in week four of the season, you wonder? Yes, it's feasible and I was part of it. Then I went home and shaved my head. Not sure why that happened, but it did. And that would be all there is to say about Saturday, the 1st of October.

Number three for not writing last weekend:  OnFriday I went out on U St. with friends and ate at Fast Gourmet, which, literally, is a gourmet sandwich shop in a gas station on 14th St. Probably one of my more enjoyable nights in a while, yet pretty unblogworthy. BTW, it's a 24 hour establishment, so if you are in a mood for a gourmet sandwich at 3 am, and I know you will be, this is your place. But be prepared to wait because you will not be the only one. 

Denver.

So I get in to Denver at like 10pm ET, 8pm MT on 10/6. My friend was to arrive shortly thereafter, but her flight was delayed so I commenced the Denver Microbrew Extravaganza in the airport while waiting. My first two beers of the trip were Hazed & Infused and Single Track Ale from Boulder Brewing Co. And I am pretty sure Brock Huard, only the most prolific quarterbacks in the history of the University of Washington, stopped in the bar to take a peak at the baseball score on the television.

Then we finally check-in to the hostel and find the closest bar. It is one called Steuben's. It is like 1130 now and for some reason they are cleaning up the bar. So we have a couple beers moderately quickly. I have Odell's IPA and a cheap can of Olympia. At about 1230 this bar closed down so we headed across the street to Tavern Uptown. After a Widmer's Drifter Pale Ale and a New Belgium Hoptoberfest we called it a night. But not before stopping at 7-11 for dinner. Yeah, the altitude got to us. It is not a myth. Six beers in six hours should not have this effect.

Amazingly, we get up early enough for breakfast the next day. Correction: due to the time difference we get up for breakfast the next day. Which brings me to my goals for the weekend: find Left Hand Black Jack Porter on tap; eat a cheap/delicious burrito, a bison/buffalo burger, and Rocky Mountain oysters (you know, for novelty's sake). For breakfast on Friday I accomplished the eat a cheap/delicious burrito at this little stand on the 16th St. Mall. It was 10am, but that's noon on the east coast, so I went for the lunch burrito.

Luckily this guy was only here during the week days, otherwise I would have been here just about every meal.

Then, after my friend stopped for a real breakfast, lo and behold, it was a respectable time on the east coast to start trying more beers. So we stop in a little bar downtown while entirely under-dressed for the usual business lunch crowd that were the only other people in there. For the first time, so far, I got a beer I had had before, New Belgium Ranger IPA. However, it did not taste like that the first time I had it in Atlanta, and at this point was my favorite of the trip. It was also at this point that my friend was explaining to me how her friend says she dances like an octopus because she flails her arms about. This makes no sense to me because even though you flail your arms about it does not mean you acquire more arms in the process, especially not eight like an octopus. Ridiculous. I say she looks like a wacky waving inflatable arm flailing tube man. With the liquor of the bar in front of us I am reminded of a rum called Kraken because it is a kraken/giant octopus on the label and ask if she has ever had it. She says no but makes it one of her life goals to find it and have a shot. We were not your usual tourists.

On the way back to the hostel we pass Yard House, which is a chain restaurant with an enormous selection of beer, many of the micro version. I was hoping they would have the Black Jack Porter. They did not, so I ordered a Left Hand 400 LB Monkey IPA. The beer I received was not an IPA but tasted a little like bananas and was also not my favorite.

The one brewery that was recommended to us more than any other when we told people we were in Denver to drink was Wynkoop. So we go there for lunch/dinner, depending on which coast you were on, and some of their brews, of course. I had the Two Guns Pilsner, Cow Town Milk Stout, and B3K Schwarzbier.

Then the Phillies game came on. This was game five in a five game series. If they lose they're out of the playoffs and my entire trip is ruined. We head on past the Rockies' Stadium to watch/drink at Breckenridge's brewpub. Actually, I would have loved to have avoided watching the game, but it's not too easy to find a bar without TVs and it's impossible for me to not watch them when I am in such a bar, most especially when the Phillies are on. Well, they lost. And I hate them. Six months of hope invested into this baseball team for almost nothing. This Friday was the first time I had experienced the feeling resembling sadness in awhile. Enlightening, yet undesirable. Luckily, I bet my roommate a trip to a chinese buffet that they would lose because I had no faith in their ability to hit the ball when it mattered, and they didn't, so I have that going for me. Oh and I had the Vanilla Porter, which, you may remember, I loved when I had it here in DC a while back, but it was very sweet coming straight from the source. Also, the Thunder Stout and Autumn Ale.

Right down the street is Blake St. Tavern, where we headed to after the game. My friend ordered a Coors Light because it'd been a long day, and I ordered a Dale's Pale Ale. Then, what do we see sitting there on the liquor shelf in front of us? None other than the Kraken. My friend then orders a Diet Coke, chips and salsa, and a shot of Kraken. Yeah, that reaction you just had right there is very similar to the one our bartender had. Long story short, I ended up drinking her Coors Light.

Then we stopped in the Tavern Uptown by our hostel again, struggled with a beer each (I had a Fat Tire), and called it a night. It was only about midnight, but after that many beers and the time change it didn't feel that early.

This was our hostel:

 Looks nice, but Saturday it was like 40 degrees and raining and they only give you a sheet to sleep under and the windows were open in our room. I woke up shivering and looking for my phone as we had decided to not leave it to chance to find Black Jack Porter on tap and set my alarm so we could catch a bus up there. Problem was my phone wasn't on my bed. Of course, it had fallen down under the bed of the bottom bunk of the guy permanently living in this hostel. So at 730am MT I am awkwardly pacing the room trying to figure out how to get underneath this guy's bed without it looking like I am trying to steal his stuff. This is my nightmare. Then, of course, he wakes up and is like "what are you looking for?" I tell him my phone but he doesn't believe me. He insists I probably left it at the bar. I must give off that look of someone who loses their phone after drinking. He then says that if the phone is not under the bed he is going to be pissed off. I'm not sure I can blame him. Luckily, it was under the bed. And then another guy in the room is arguing with a family member on the phone about why he ran away from home and I figure it's probably time for me to get up.

Let's talk about miracles. How about waking up feeling fine and well after the Friday described above. Must be the altitude.

So we head on out to drink some more. This time in Longmont, CO at the Left Hand Brewery, home of the elusive Blank Jack Porter. But first we must prepare ourselves to brave the borderline freezing, rainy weather. So, after buying umbrellas, we head into a store to pick up hats and gloves, which we did not bring. Well, I got distracted by some really neat shoes and ended up leaving empty handed and no warmer, while my friend got a scraf, gloves, and a hat and was adequately clothed for the mile walk through the cold rain to the bus/brewery thereafter.

So we finally arrive at the brewery after being dropped off quite randomly on the side of the road. The whole trip was quickly worth it at first sip of the Black Jack Porter, though. Then I had a sampler of Fade to Black Pepper Porter, nitro Wake Up Dead Imperial Stout, Polestar Pilsner, and Stranger Pale Ale. Then another of the Haystack Wheat, cask of the Stranger, Black Jack Porter again (so so good--probably the best of the trip), and the real version of the 400 LB Monkey, which did not taste like the one that tasted like bananas. If you are in the Denver area, you must visit the Left Hand Brewery in Longmont. You're doing it wrong if you don't.

Back in Denver we head to another of the more popular microbreweries, Great Divide. We were hoping for a brewpub, in which they sell food, too, but this was not so. So I got samples of the Denver Pale, Hoss Rye Lager, and the Claymore Scotch Ale and then we left to find a place that served both food and beer and to meet up with my friend's friend.

My friend is from Boston. Unintentionally, we ended up in Denver's Boston bar, the Pour House. So we chitchat and eat for a bit. I have a Left Hand Saw Tooth, which was by far my friend's favorite of the trip, and an Odell's Cutthroat Porter, which is my favorite newfound brewery, and head on back to Wynkoop because I want to get a picture of the bar and my friend wants to try to their ginger bread.

Well, neither happens. But I do have their Silverback Pale Ale and London Calling IPA. And there goes Saturday.

Sunday was our relaxed day, which meant sleeping in, doing some normal people things, and not so much beer. So we start by making an unofficial law school visit to the University of Denver, as seen here:

Nice school, but I am too much of an east coast person to live all the way out there.

Then we pass by the original Chipotle, which I don't realize until I am in the Chipotle by my house in DC and see a picture of it on the wall, even though I claimed every Chipotle we saw had to be the first one. Then we end up at a delightful bar called Illegal Pete's because it's Denver and, who are we kidding, we are there to drink, so I have an Upslope Brown Ale. Now, if you drink this much beer you are bound to get one or two for free, right? Well, in the midst of pouring my Upslope, the keg gets kicked and so I get charged for that one but get the next one free.

And then my friend decides that should be her last beer since she wants to get a tattoo. So we go and get her a tattoo.

Then we go back to downtown so I can get a picture of this awesomeness:

Convention Center

And then we head back to Wynkoop for the third time so that my friend can get the gingerbread and I can get a buffalo burger and finally take a picture for my blog. I get a Mile HiPA and a Rail Yard Ale, which was also free. I was told the gingerbread was delicious. I can tell you the buffalo burger was good, but not as good as their regular beef burger. But I cannot provide you with a picture as I forgot to take one for the third time. Must have been the altitude. Or maybe it was the (let's count them) 34 (!) different beers I had (not all of them full pints, though).

Then, on the way back to the hotel, one of the so many homeless people that are in Denver drops two pairs of scissors in the street. Can't understand that one.

Bummer about the Rocky Mountain oysters, though. 

And that's Denver.

Kind of a High School Reunion 2011

I don't know why but I find myself wanting to be part of something significant or at least novel, like having my watch stop ticking as I'm looking at it. Or being in a plane crash. Yeah, that's morbid, but how many people get to be part of plane crashes? Not that many in the entirety of history. I'm not saying that when I get on a plane I root for it to go down, I'm just saying it would be neat to be part of history. It's the same thing as rooting for dynasties in sports. Kind of. Don't you agree?  Probably not. Maybe I need more emotion in my life.

Anyway.

Friday. How did I go about making my Friday blogworthy, or at least for this blog where the standard is not much higher than simply leaving the house? Using my Living Social coupon for Kaz Sushi Bistro that was to expire soon that's how. Delicious. Not much more than that though other than when the sushi stopped making me full we drove to Wendys because we were feeling pretty uncreative in terms of satiating our late night hunger.

Why the lame Friday? Do you remember how I told you a little while back in the summer that my favorite Premier League team is Everton? Well they were on TV Saturday morning playing my roommate's favorite team, Manchester City. So we decided to get up early (10am) and watch the recorded version of it and I needed to get to bed early for this. I don't get much sleep because of having to get to work in the AM but when I get the chance I will sleep way past what is normal, so if I was to get up for the game I had to offset some sleep elsewhere. Makes sense, right? Yeah, I know, I could just get to bed earlier during the week to save up time to not sleep on the weekend. I've heard that one before 123120981 times. But oh hey let me introduce myself to you: I am Jeff. I have very little will power and an odd need to be like the last one up. I think it has to do with not wanting to miss out. My house is pretty much the center of my social universe so if I didn't socialize there, well, I would probably get a lot more sleep.

And I had big plans for Saturday. After the soccer game there was lunch at DC Veg Fest 2011. This was a vegetarian festival down at George Washington University. You know, sometimes I am a vegetarian (but who isn't, right? i mean there has to have been an instance when you weren't eating meat), so I wanted to immerse myself in the veggie vibe at the Veg Fest hoping someone would tell me/I would read/hear something so eye-opening that I would kick my vegetarian tendencies into irreversible overdrive.

So we get off at a metro stop far away, because the metro is always under construction and inconvenient on the weekend, and walk to Foggy Bottom. This was a less than optimal situation at first. Next thing you know we are walking by the World Bank and IMF and I am realizing I have never set foot in one of the more popular areas of the city. Not sure how that happened that I had never been there before. But now I can say I have been there and that's what counts, right (see first paragraph)?

Anyway. Honestly, I didn't expect for it to be much more than a few tables of sparsely patronized organizations and food people. Actually, it was quite crowded with a bunch of vegetarian-oriented businesses, animal rights organizations, and vegetarian food vendors.  Well done, DC vegetarians. Did I get my mind blown meatless? No. But I did get this interaction, which was just about the exact thing I was hoping to avoid yet knew to expect it the entire time, and some good Indian food:

Veg Fest Person (VFP): So, are you a vegetarian?
Me (ME): No. Well, kind of.
VFP: incredulously with raised eyebrows Kind of?!
ME: Yeah, I mean I don't really buy meat for my regular diet but I make exceptions for organically raised meat (becuase it's not that they were killed but how they lived, right?), free food, and novelty food eating experiences like chinese buffets and food trucks and when I am traveling and when I am drinking and pretty much any eating experience that takes place outside of my house.
VFP: So not 'kind of', but 'not at all'?
ME: thinking: "All right, bitch, why don't you get off your high horse so I can eat it. Kidding. I would never eat a horse. Horses are beautiful and way too much meat for me to consume. Kidding again. About the too much meat part, that is. They are definitely beautiful. The real reason is I have no will power to entirely adhere to my convictions. But it turns out just enough to not punch you in the neck (this is a guy I am speaking to. I am not both an animal eater and lady hitter.). Ha yea pretty much. But I am a lot more content not trying to be perfect. I tried to go vegan once and I kept on compromising and that would just depress me, which I try to avoid doing. 
VFP: Ha all right at least you're honest.
ME: Yeah. And funny. then I walked away

Too bad animals don't get my sense of humor. Maybe that would ease their tortured lives and often gruesome deaths. Probably not, though. Oh, if only I were a strong-willed human being!

So, if you remember, last weekend we were going to go visit the Wilson House, as in President Woodrow Wilson's House, the only presidential museum in DC, if you can believe that. Turns out that was our last chance for a little while as it is now being renovated. Well, Satuday was Museum Day, according to Smithsonian so we thought we'd try out another president's house. This time Abraham Lincoln's Cottage, which is not his presidential museum but just his old DC summer house that sits adjacent to the Soldier's Home. However, I don't know why I even bothered because, shockingly/not at all, Museum Day was so popular that there weren't any tickets available for free entry to Lincoln's Cottage.

Luckily, we had planned too much for Saturday anyway so had we gone we would have been late for the tailgate to the DC United soccer game, which obviously takes precedence. Don't believe me? You decide: free entry to Lincoln's summer home or $10 for all you can eat along with free good beer and tickets? Don't even try to act like you are that big a fan of Abraham Lincoln and I won't act like I went for any reason other than the food and beer. Luckily, we (DC United) won so that wasn't a waste of time.

Oh yea, the high school reunion thing. So I have like three high school friends that live in DC. One of them plays on my roommate's soccer team (not coincidental; I knew he was good and I knew the team needed a player), so he was naturally part of the tailgate, which was for winning soccer teams. Another friend of mine is also in the same league so he was there.

After the game we decided to head up to Adams Morgan. Coincidentally, my third high school friend texted to hang out so she met up with us in Adams Morgan. (side note: do not try to find a parking spot anywhere near Adams Morgan on a Saturday night without committing to spending like $20. We had to go park at my house about a mile away and cab back. Yeah, this does not sound bad and is something that should have been recommended at first. But I don't drive in DC so I had not yet learned the disaster that is parking in Adams Morgan on a Saturday.) So there was that adorable little reunion. Then there was queso from Giant and there went Saturday.

I didn't have much planned on Sunday but that which I did, did not pan out. I was going to eat at Chipotle but, in case you didn't know, the Chipotle in Columbia Heights is part of the Smithsonian museums and is always like out the door crowded. Only part of that is false. So I had Pollo Campero instead and if you told me I was in Guatemala, from where the fried chicken establishment comes, I would have had to believe you, which was nicely nostalgic. Later I was going to go try to run a mile again but they shut the lights out in the stadium as I walked in. I didn't want my trip down to Cardozo to be for naught so I decided to go eat at Fast Gourmet, which is a gourmet sandwich place in a gas station that I hear good things about. Then I realized I didn't have my wallet with me.

And I lost in fantasy football. That was a regrettable Sunday.

This Past Weekend Had College Written All Over It 2011

I am an admitted music snob in that I will judge you based on your music and think that I am better than you if your music is more mainstream than that to which I listen. Hence, I don't have many friends. And those I do have I really wish they knew more about good music so they could tell me about it. Do you like good music? Are we friends yet? Of course we are. Who else would read this? But let's act like we're not. In that case, would you like to be my friend and go hang out and drink good beer and talk about good music? Cool.

However.

There are a few pop songs that I do enjoy. They are (this may be all of them):
-there is that beyonce song from last year or so
-there are lady gaga songs from her last album
-i enjoy that adele song that recently came out.

Trend: they are all quite talented and I respect talent.

On the other hand, just because a band is not mainstream does not mean I respect them. These are some at least moderately sub-mainstream people that I do not enjoy:
-odd future--i think they won an MTV award. if it wasn't for being obnoxious/overrated, it probably wasn't deserved
-fleet foxes--this crap reminds me of the woods and other things too tranquil for my liking. can't stand it
-sleigh bells--click on that link and listen to it. yeah, i can't believe anyone likes that either.

Anyway.

So the Washington Nationals are terrible. Point and case: you can buy tickets for two rows up in right field for $5. You're right, that is as much as the fee to purchase them online. I was thinking, "I haven't been to a Nats game since the very beginning of the year and I have nothing to do Friday so why don't I splurge and go to a game." My roommate liked the idea, too. So he gets a bottle of Captain Morgan and we drink that pre game. And here's the kicker: for some reason I get the idea to get 5 hour energy drinks. No, I get the idea because I don't get enough sleep and drinking and baseball can be a pretty powerful sedative.

$5

Do you remember when I told you how I know why four loko's were made illegal in their original form? Well, I was wrong. I did not. Now I do. You see, alcohol naturally makes you tired and feel the effects of drinking a lot. Energy drinks like four loko or five hour energy masks that tiredness so you don't realize that you're getting drunk, which we were after the Captain Morgan and beers at the game. But we must not have known or else I would hope we wouldn't have walked from the stadium up to Capitol Hill to a random bar for a few more beers, which is kind of far but I cannot quite recall walking all that far.

And neither can my roommate.

After that we remember eating chips and salsa at said bar with the beers and leaving. And then it's anyone's guess. Or, if it's your knowledge, please let us know what exactly did happen.

Here's what we can piece together and guess from the clues:

We got on the metro somewhere near the bar and switched to the green line at L'enfant, presumably. My roommate then remembers being on the floor of the metro and when he got up I was gone. He remembers getting off at U St. and looking for me. He also remembers me pushing him so it only makes sense that I must have pushed him and ran away at the U St. stop. I have a text message saying I am on the bus on the way home. He walks home. I didn't have my keys so I guess I figured I would wait for him on the back deck waiting for him to come home. He does not come through the back door but goes through the front and passes out in the foyer. I have calls on my phone to roommates at about 1230 and 3am. I also have an anecdote in which I called another friend and seemed confused as to why I was calling him. The only other thing I remember from the night is waking up on the back deck shivering at 3am and wondering what the fuck is going on.

The next day my roommates come into my room to wake me up for the Tennessee game. "What is that on your head?" I have an unexplained scrape on my forehead. I'm embarrassed.

Lesson learned: do not binge drink and take a five hour energy.

Also like college, I put on my orange jumpsuit for the Tennessee game and, like most of college, we lose to Florida. I hate the University of Florida.

But really the orange jumpsuit was only there during my last semester of college. Also from my last semester of college: my affinity for Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Well, they were playing in DC on Saturday at the 930 Club, so after my first run with Korean food of the weekend--this time from Adams Express in Mt. Pleasant--I met up with a couple friends and attended their concert. Given the zaniness of their music I figured they would have a livelier stage presence. I was mistaken. But I enjoyed it just the same. It probably had to do with the fact that the music reminded me of a really fun time in life. And then we went back to my friend's house and threw the football in the street.

Do you remember when I told you about my goal to be able to run a six minute mile by winter? Well, I finally got started on that/I joined a soccer league and I don't want to be the first casualty in a social soccer league. So last week or so I had attempted to run on the treadmill at the gym. I have never run on a treadmill before because, given my aversion to embarrassment, I am more than likely to fall on my face in the middle of a crowded gym and if that's not grounds for suicide I do not know what is. I don't know if it was just the machine or if it knew that I was scared or if it's the way I run, but I was tripping up on the machine and almost fell multiple times. But the jesus didn't invent the outdoors for us to run indoors anyway so on Sunday I gave the running a try outdoors at the track down the street. Guess how fast I ran my first mile for the sake of running a mile in a long time? 7:35. Can I cut that down to six minutes in three months? I don't know.

How does one recover from a grueling exercise regimen such as that? Vast quantities of Korean food, of course. Namely, Honey Pig in Annandale, VA. Look at this. This is two people's food/my idea of a good time:

My roommate and I had intended to visit the Woodrow Wilson House on Sunday but I was told it closed too early based on when I woke up when in fact it was not. That will have to wait for another weekend. My tourist experience for the weekend: Takoma Park, MD. I work with this girl that is in love with Takoma Park because she says it is so "bohemian". Wikipedia says it has the nickname of the "Berkeley of the East" based on its very liberal constituents.

So I put on my tourist shoes and went to explore this neighborhood. I mean I saw some hippie types but other than that I couldn't verify how liberal or bohemian it is. This is what I saw:

welcome sign

it became quite residential pretty quickly. not used to seeing all those trees this close to the city.

big ugly apartment building just to remind you you are near DC

apparently the town grew up around a railroad station and these buildings make me think of just that

old fashioned downtown area

Then I was walking down the road and this random lady was like, "Hey you're that guy that walked into the tree the other night! It has to be you, look at the scrape on your forehead!"

No. This didn't happen. But I am afraid of something like this happening and them being like, "actually, you ran into a wall with all these people around and you started crying because you were so embarrassed and lost." Yeah, that would be grounds for suicide. But seriously, if you do have information on what happened Friday please do let me know.