Noah Webster. Does the name sound familiar? It should. If you have ever used a dictionary, you probably used a descendent of his An American Dictionary of the English Language. Well, in addition to his love of defining words, he was also a revolutionary. As in the American Revolution. He so despised the tyranny of England that he sought to free America from not just the illogical constraints to the colonies' liberty, like 'taxation without representation', but also from that silly 'u' in words like 'colour' and 'harbour' and subbed in a 'z' for the 's' at the end of words like organization.
One lexicographical anecdote I like in Webster's quest for complete independence from the British throne is that of the pronunciation of the word herb. Now, us in the states like to pronounce our aitches (plural for 'h') but in the Commonwealth countries they do not. I especially remember this from studying abroad in South Africa ("what the 'ell, bru?!). And then one day, much to my surprise, they went ahead and threw in the 'h' in herb. So, oddly, the one word that common Americans leave the aitch out of, the Commonwealth countries take the time to pronounce.
Turns out it this is not a mere coincidence. All because Noah Webster was like "Nay, England, we will not be emulating your arbitrary annunciation of the letter aitch in American English, but rather for all those words in which you pronounce it we will not; and for any word that you leave it out, it will be emphasized as a sign of our moral superiority to Britain and an exclamation of our liberty from the King in all aspects of our society and culture."
Jeff Leaves the House on the Weekend: not only a source for all the juicy gossip of my life, but occasionally a source of historical tidbits to be used accordingly when watching Jeopardy. You're welcome.
It was brought to my attention this weekend that I had drifted away from fictionalizing parts of this here weblog. When did that happen this weekend? Well, you can deduce for yourself based on the events that transpired, as described below:
Those little pictures representing $5 burgers on my Lou's Beer and Burger Savings Card were not going to hole-punch their selves. So there I was, being all social again for happy hour on Friday. And by social I mean transplanting interacting with 5 of 6 of my roommates from the living room at the house to Lou's. I'll count it.
There's a new bar in Columbia Heights called Acre 121. (Do you remember a little while back when I told you about how we saw our city councilman driving by in a convertible VW bug? Well I saw this car again this weekend and I thought to myself, "if i could say anything to this councilman of mine, what would it be?" My first thought was "councilman, please offer tax breaks to get more bars opened up in Columbia Heights. I promise they will succeed." Yeah, I live a pretty good, sheltered life here in the CH Bubble so my most pressing concern is the crowdedness of the neighborhood bars. Anyway, it turns out it wasn't the councilman in the car. Maybe that is a sign to think of something grander to ask if I ever do run into him and feel like getting all civic with him.) Well, we decided to give this bar a try. The original idea was to head down to Chinatown, but there is no need to leave the neighborhood and incur transport costs.
Have you ever played 'credit card roulette'? Neither had I. I was thinking, 'what are the chances i lose this and pick up the tab?" The answer: 20%. But I picked up 100% of that tab there. Fuck. I knew that was going to happen. But I am sure any one of us that lost would have said the same thing and that just would not make sense. It was only like $40, but that doesn't make me feel any less spited by the odds gods. And now my perception of Acre 121 could be ruined forever. That and the quantity of fancy pants in there. Oh, hey, FYI: the recently dubbed "Official Drink of DC" is the Rickey. I had one there.
Then we hiked up 14th St. to another new bar, the Getaway, and sat out on the porch area there letting the fact that there were a handful of decent bars within a couple of blocks from our house soak in with the moderately priced PBRs.
Then we hiked just a little more up 14th St. to arrive at Red Derby, your standard hipster dive bar. Now I've got a couple hipster-adverse roommates so being here was very similar to that one bar we squirmed through in the East Village in New York. Remember that?
And that was Friday.
Saturday I woke up just in time to get to the little farmer's market down the street as it was closing. Who closes at 2pm? "Farmers" I guess. One day I will get there in time.
What's your favorite team in the English Premier League? Mine, for pretty much completely random reasons and the presence of Tim Howard, is Everton. Oh, who is that you're playing on July 23rd, DC United? Everton? OK, yeah, I'll go to that. So, more people than I ever would have thought possible would be interested in an Everton-DC United game first came over to "pre-game" then head to RFK to "game."
That's funny you ask that, you inquisitive reader, because, yes, DC was the hottest city in the country on Saturday with a heat index of 108 (108!) degrees.
After much deliberation and intention questioning, we ended up at Stetsons on U St. after the game for reasons relating to proximity to our respective houses. It is true, I would much rather metro closer to home earlier than most likely cab back later from further away. It was so joyous being part of the masses patronizing U St. on a Saturday night. You know, there is a pretty strong correlation between my feeling relevant and my feeling content. You probably think I am all emotionally complex from reading this blog, but, no, I'm quite simple: relevance. What, you think I stay up late because I like the smell of 1am? No, 1am smells a lot like 10pm. It's being with the others that are up that keeps me up. And a well-ingrained habit.
Anyway.
New plan for taking advantage of DC: eating at different ethnic restaurants throughout the city. First up: Ghana Cafe in the Logan Circle Area. Why Ghana Cafe first? At the time, idk. In hindsight: the jesus guiding me to Castle Milk Stout. Never heard of it? Well, there was a time when I believed it to be a waste of money to buy anything but cheap beer. Then I ended up in South Africa where cheap beer was also good beer, like Castle Milk Stout. It was my gateway beer. And my alcoholic holy grail. Until Ghana Cafe. It was $12 but I did not hesitate for a second in committing to getting one.
How did it taste after all these years? I couldn't tell you. They were out. Good goat curry though.
After the loss in credit card roulette and Castle Milk Stout not-close-enough encounter, I was starting to think the alcohol gods were trying to tell me something. Or maybe it was the non-alcoholic gods. Whatever.
Did you know there is a Titanic Memorial in DC? There's pretty much a memorial to everything in DC. Except Martin Luther King, Jr. We'll get to that in a paragraph or two.
Here is the Titanic Memorial:
Basically, you just get off at Waterfront, walk down 4th past the naval fort from 1791, and make a right. Honestly, the benches over looking the Potomac were more appealing than the above statue. And the kids smoking pot on the bench next to us would probably agree.
Now, that very well could have been a day right there, especially since it wasn't much less hot out than on Saturday, but we had big plans. Next up: FDR Memorial. So we bikeshare it right along M St. on over to Smithsonian, encircle the Tidal Basin on foot withstanding the ever-so-comforting feeling of your skin literally burning, rest under the Cherry Blossoms and finally arrive at the FDR Memorial. Oh, and right next to it is the yet-to-be completed MLK, Jr. Memorial. It's about time DC.
To-be MLK Memorial:
Part of the FDR Memorial:
Disclaimer: I can be insensitive. This little bit of potentially horrible, yet beautifully hilarious, irony was posed: what if the FDR Memorial was accidentally created without being handicap accessible? Oh this got quite the chuckle from me, admittedly guiltily. Luckily, however, the FDR Memorial is handicap accessible.
Being a tourist in the middle of the summer in DC is exhausting. I have never wanted to be on the metro as badly as I did after we were finished at the FDR Memorial. And after a not-so-short walk past the Lincoln Memorial to the closest bikeshare dock, a ride down Constitution, and traversing of 3 typically long DC blocks we arrived at said metro. And, miraculously, after waiting only like 1 minute, the silver savior, the metro, arrived.
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