BlogSport: August 2004

Another reason to be excited for the trip

Chicago has a Wacker Drive. AND it's divided into Upper Wacker and Lower Wacker. Heh.

This is embarrassing

Bryan asked me during the barbeque on Saturday what the name of the medic from "G.I. Joe" was. Now, I was closer to inebriated than sober at the time, and embroiled in conversation of a non-Joe sort and therefore unfocused, but for the love of Mike. HIS NAME IS "LIFELINE." I couldn't come up with that?! For a medic?! So, so poor. I am bookmarking this so that never. happens. again.

But they have Zero Net Carbs!!

Isn't it an oxymoron for these to speak of themselves in healthful terms? And why can't they spell the words correctly? Why must we insist on being obese AND illiterate?

"[Barrios] couldn't possibly have been happier. He loves his job. Two years ago, he gave up a career in accounting for this -- which, he noted, says something about accounting."

I would have to put this on my list of jobs I would NEVER want to have, but if it works for this dude, vive la difference.

The Olympics closing ceremonies were good stuff last night. I am such a sucker for the pomp and pagentry such as that displayed at the Olympics, and I also totally cop to being taken in by the human-interest stories that they put together for said broadcasts. I kept getting goose bumps during the "Great Moments at the Games" recaps, or when they did the story of Stylianos Kyriakides running the Boston marathon in 1948 to raise awareness of how Greece--embroiled in civil war--was slowly starving to death. They played me, and I'm not afraid to admit it. I was so impressed with the acrobatics and choreography of the Beijing contingent that performed as well--it bodes well for 2008. And now I'm sad that we have to wait 4 years for all that spectacle to come around again! I know...sappy, but true.

I also had no idea that the MTV Video Awards were on last night. For so long they had the show after Labor Day--I remember dreading seeing ads for the show as a kid because I knew that if it was going to air soon, that meant I'd be back in school soon as well--but I guess post 9-11 the timing has changed. I could care less that I missed it, as I almost never watch MTV anymore, although seeing Dave Chappelle as host is pretty enticing. But they'll re-air it a trillion times in the next month, so if I'm desperate, I think I can manage a viewing. Lucky me.

The best party I wish I never had

Last night was Kristin’s going away barbeque. Most of my readership were attendees, so I don’t think I’m telling this story for the first time to too many of you, but it was one of those occasions that must be chronicled no matter for whom.

First, the title, somewhat tongue-in-cheek, but also true. I loved organizing this party—it was our kinda night. Good friends, good food, great conversation, raucous game playing and laid-back camaraderie amongst all. The epitome of what Kristin brings to all of us as a person and a friend. There is no one for whom I would rather throw the bash to end all bashes; she deserved it, and more. But I’ll be honest and say that if she weren’t leaving and we never had this shindig in the first place, you wouldn’t hear me complaining. All of us are so proud of her and so excited for her and all the great things that await her in Chicago, but I think I speak for all of us too when I say that we haven’t let ourselves think about a D.C. without her because that shit DO NOT FEEL RIGHT.

That said, what a great night. People were fun and hilarious and generous. Old friends mingled with new acquaintances and all the disparate parts of Kristin’s social circles came together. We talked and ate and smoked and ate and drank and ate and played Asshole and ate and brought it Pictionary-style and ate. There was Caps and cake and SoCo and mesquite clouds, a hammock and horrendous techno mixes but also just the right splash of Bon Jovi and a last-ditch 7-minutes-until-midnight run to Sleven for high quality Miller (pronounced Mee-lay) Lite that would have done an Indy pit proud. Personally I got to see people who just don’t cross my path often enough. Annie and I foiled Kristin’s plan to keep us apart, realizing what long-lost Wonder Twins we are. Finishing up the night with a rallying game of Ultimate on the slopes of Alexandria’s most picturesque monument to secrecy and collusion didn’t hurt either.

Photographic evidence of “Kristin Who?” will be available on the guest of honor’s website in the next day or two, and possibly on the harbinger of all things Richmond as well. A huge thanks to Dave and D who opened their srrrrsly off-the-heezy lovely home to host the event, not minding even when their night ended in a 1 a.m. bedtime while the rest of us raged on downstairs. Graciousness, thy name is LaChance. I’ll get you back, if I ever get a big-girl house of my own. A personal thanks to Bill for unflinchingly being a designated driver, and to Sandy for bringing me home and waiting to see that I made it into my house, since there was an entirely too creepy man loitering on my street at 4 a.m.

Now, to hold still in front of the television for the rest of the day. A wonderful weekend? Indeed she was.

"I just think that Kim was always an integral and interesting part of the psychological narrative, even without the nipples."

Someone is bothering to defend Spawn. I think he misses a large part of the point, which is that Elisha is just as bad as Kim--the combination of the storylines plus the actress is what makes it so painful.

I love my family

No, really, in all sincerity, I adore my family and all their strengths, and their quirks. That said, I increasingly feel further and further from "the fold" amongst them when it comes to politics and some social issues. Especially in this politically-charged atmosphere leading up to the November election, I am bombarded almost daily with forwarded emails containing choice words about Senator Kerry or the ACLU or the prosecution of abusers from Abu Ghraib, etc. I respect my family--down to every last in-law and cousin--and their right to believe and choose what they will. However when I get something like this, I have to share because the hilarity is unbridled and it's too rich to keep to myself. I received these images via email, on the heels of my watching the Montgomery Gentry video for "You Do Your Thing" again last night. I feel this is the Heartland reaching out sans irony and peddling its ham-fisted wares, and thus, I just gotta blog.

Gender according to Microsoft, and other cultural gaffes

From John's blog. Hahahahahhahahaa.

Sisters are doin' it for themselves

Happy birthday to the 19th Amendment to the Constitution, which granted women the right to get their vote on. In honor of this momentous historical event, I am going to go vote today, at Krispy Kreme. My Kerry doughnut purchase highlights, in the most profound sense, what suffragettes fought for. I know Stanton and Anthony pictured me, sitting on my ample watoosie in Dupont Circle, awash in glucose and whey, signaling my choice for the 44th President of the United States of America. It's a great day, my friends.

I look at it this way: It leaves me more time to watch "The Wire"

The story with Anne this fine day is that she has a mega virus on her computer at home. (Whoa...when did this become an episode of Seinfeld? "George is very angry!!" Anyway...) My spiffy cable modem that I usually heart so much also left me open to some insidious little bastard that has rendered me machine totally useless. I won't go into details, but suffice it to say that 80% of my applications are fizzdiddleizzzzucked. I have to haul my CPU into work where my fabulous, talented, patient, and gracious officemate (our resident IT guy) will hopefully remedy this issue. Sigh. SO ANNOYING.

UPDATE!!! Sonny is the daddy mack--macaroni!--because he fixed the problema in no time at all. I had to suffer some yelling because I don't "back up files" or "scan and delete spyware" or "bathe on a regular basis" but it was worth all that. I'm going to buy his doughnut on our voting run as a sign of appreciation. WHICHEVER DOUGHNUT HE CHOOSES. Now *that* is fair and balanced.

Staying up to watch TAR on Tuesdays kicks my ayse, but I might have to suck it up and push that extra bit to see Kerry on The Daily Show with my boyfriend Jon Stewart.

FULL-BODY FOOD JOY

Ohholymacaronijeebusgreatgooglymoogly. Krispy Kreme opened it's newest store in Dupont Circle today. Let us all take a moment for quiet, unbridled happy reflection at the sugar and coffee that awaits us, there, in such proximity! I steered clear during the morning rush, but accompanied Steve and Sonny just now after lunch. OHMYGOD OHMYGOD OHMYGOD. I cannot tell you what a sensory overload it was...the first sweet, heavenly whiff upon crossing the threshold was enough to make my eyes roll back in my head. Then, while I waited on line they give me a free, fresh, hot glazed donut!!!! There was much rejoicing, and happy food dancing. Then, to top that off, I ordered 2 more (Boston Kreme and chocolate iced w/ sprinkles, for those of you keeping score at home). My body won't know what to do with this much refined sugar and bread, but I DON'T CARE. It is my Mecca, and I say thanks and Praise be.

PS--James, c'mon down. I'll be your wingman anytime.

Oh! And there's a whole week of festivities to commemorate the opening. Stop by and you too can join in:

Wednesday: Free coffee samples (DES!)
Thursday: Vote for your favorite Presidential candidate by buying a Red (Shrubya) or Blue (SwiftBoat Kerry) sprinkled donut.
Friday: Jazz happy hour. (wtf, mate?)
Saturday: Kids dip and sprinkle their own donuts at the KK dipping station.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILL!!

May it be a prescient, yet ineffectual year....

Kamikaze, on-demand blogging

Adam just signed on to IM, sent me a link saying "Blog this" and promptly signed back off. Ask and ye shall receive, PingPong Boy.

God help us if anyone does an analysis of how much time is lost to emailing and IMing during the workday. (shudder)

I wish Steve would write about more than music because this is frigging brilliant.

I *finally* saw some Olympic rowing yesterday (thanks, CINC) tuning in to see the finals in the women's and men's quad and 8 races.

I find it interesting that reporters refer to the 8s as the "elite" boats of rowing--as if to suggest that all other boats are somehow slightly less than elite. Rowers have differing opinions on which is the best type of racing to watch and/or participate in (usually defaulting to their own as their top choice), but it's true that 8s are the marquee event--most people, when they think of rowing, picture sweep 8s.

What's more, yesterday 'Merika gave them awesome stuff to picture, taking the gold in the men's competition and silver in the women's. Watching the men row was (forgive me...unabashed lerv warning) poetry. The rhythm and power and grace of this sport is really something to see. The timing of the rowers--they are COMPLETELY IN SYNCH with each other--the *thunk* as all 8 oars click into the oar locks at the finish and the catch--the slide and run of the boats, and the way they leap up with each drive--the cacophony of the coxswains charging the boat out of the gate and then settling into race pace: it is the epitome of "thrilling."

It was not the U.S.'s games as far as sculling was concerned, though. We didn't even make it to the medal round in most of our events, and the women's' quad came up short in their race yesterday, finishing an ass-waxing last. Now, that's last out of the best rowers IN THE WORLD, so it's definitely something to be proud of, but you can bet their locker room was anything but jubilant.

A factoid for your "Did you know....?" files: Rowing a 2000m race is the equivalent of playing 2 back-to-back basketball games. Daaaaamn.

"Jesus!"

For the past month or so the few square blocks that I traverse getting to and from the metro have been host to Jews for Jesus, out spreading their Good Word. They wear huge smiles and embossed t-shirts, and I think their agenda is pretty self-evident. As with most canvassers, vendors, and strangers who approach me on the street, I say "No thank you" or smile and shake my head, then go on my way. The J^2 take this in stride and turn to the next commuter--you know how it goes. But this morning I was struck by the technique employed by the Jew for Jesus standing at the 18th St. exit of Farragut West. As people streamed off of the escalators and swirled past him, he just kept his hand (clutching a sheaf of brochures) extended out and called, "Jesus!" again and again. I wonder what he hopes to accomplish with this tactic? For sure it grabs your attention, but doesn't elaborate enough to distinguish his outcry from the way I would say "Jesus!"--that being, after I've bumped into something/been cut off by someone on the road/seen a particularly comely young man or any one of a number of epithet-cum-expletive -esque ways. Seriously, he'd probably get more attention if he stood there shouting his own name: "Bob!"

"Now there's something you don't see everyday...."

So said my coach this morning after one of our quad sculls FLIPPED OVER in the river about 150 feet from the dock. The water was rough and the wind high, but juuuust on the edge of "Do we go? Or don't we?" and quads are big enough boats that they can usually handle the tougher stuff. You may get wet, but the chances of you getting into true dire straits are slim. Or so I thought. I was up on the dock, trying to sort out boat line-ups and I hear the phrase quoted above, look up, and see nothing but white hull shining up at me. I knew the women in the boat were OK because I could hear their laughter, and we had motorized launches and lifejackets out to them in under a minute, but damn if it didn't make for some crazy times on the river. After that, foolish souls that we are, we STILL tried to go out and give it a shot. I was in a double, no less--much smaller boat, much more prey to the caprices of Mother Nature. Needless to say my partner and I didn't get far before discretion overcame valor and we put back in to the dock. True rowing enthusiasts are like that, though--a bad day on the water is better than a good day on land, and we'll go out if there's any chance in hell that we'll get a good row in.

All apologies to Freddie

This is a must for any Queen fan, any fan of country, or anyone who just wants to laugh their ass off. In a spirit not unlike Phish's cover of "Gin and Juice," Hayseed Dixie are atop the UK country chart with a cover of "Fat Bottomed Girls" that fecking ROXX. You can hear it here. (note: you'll have to fast forward; it's somewhere near 19:19:30. It's worth it, I swear!)

PS--yeah, so apparently I'm not *that* busy. Whatever.

(shrugging) I got nothin'

Sorry kids...suddenly this morning I'm a bit swamped. As the start of semester nears, my workload is growing exponentially, curbing my surf-and-post time. I know! I object, too, to this misuse of my time, but I think I have your sympathy and understanding, no? Plus it is, for real not for fake, AFRICA HOT here today and that leaves me ill-disposed to labor of any sort. Hopefully I'll revive sometime this afternoon. Maybe in the meantime, James can put up a picture of a monkey washing a cat? Of course, he may be busy....

Amelia Earhart was more PR than pilot

There. I said it. I absolutely give credit for what it took for *any* woman to choose a technical pursuit in the first 1/2 century of flight, and she handled the crowds, pomp, and circumstance in such a way as to be a superior ambassador for women in flight, in general. But her planning for that last flight was poor and she was pushed into the trip when her instincts told her not to go. The fact that she is often the first woman pilot mentioned in an historical discussion is an error and a disservice to those who should top the list, such as:

Jacqueline Cochran

Jerrie Cobb

Pancho Barnes

Janet Harmon Bragg

The Night Witches

Valentina Tereshkova

Everyone knows Yeager, Armstrong, Glenn, Gagarin, Yang, Lindbergh, etc. Few know these ladies, who themselves are the smallest fraction of the legions of women pilots, engineers, navigators and mechanics who have been with aviation from the beginning. Just saying...it should be less Amelia and more 99s.

"If you screw up just *this* much, you'll be flying a cargo plane full of rubber dogshit out of Hong Kong."

Those are fighting words....

The Globemaster

The Galaxy

THE HERCULES (Herc JATO, baby)

The Starlifter (*obnoxious bragging alert*--My brother flies these. Can your brother do that? I mean, I'm sure he's cool and all, but CAN HE FLY A U.S. AIRFORCE C-141 STARLIFTER? I so heart my big brother.)

Happy National Aviation Day!!!

First celebrated in 1939, and held on August 19th to commemorate Orville Wright's birthday, this national holiday is pretty much on the DL outside of flying circles. But you know I couldn't let it go by unrecognized. Stay tuned throughout the day; I'll be attempting to post interesting-only-to-me aviation arcana and pictures. So, just like every other day here at BlogSport, basically.

My favorite fighter

My favorite WWII fighters +

Tank with wings

So lovely...can't believe I'll never get to ride one

In a perfect world these would be my Hidalgo (sorry BD)

Update du boo-boo

Because I know you were wondering, an update to let you know the stitches came out today. The cut looks really OOgly. It's just an odd, hard-to-heal gash, and the scar will probably be pretty bodacious.

I'm gonna make up some sort of a knife fight story, I think. "How'd you get that scar?" "Well, it's quite a tale, my friend...."

American Idol auditions are on-going here in D.C.....

The Post does an excellent, pithy write-up of it, from the absurdity--

One person compares the atmosphere to Woodstock, but it's a Woodstock with the trappings of pop commerce. There are American Idol Pop-Tarts, American Idol playing cards and American Idol bubble gum.

To the unfortunate desperation--

Robert Helton, 68, of Flintstone sits in a portable chair beside his granddaughter, Kimberly Nicole Helton. She is 20, dressed in a pink T-shirt and fast asleep on the floor, an arm stretched out over her head. Helton says she's a waitress at a Bob Evans restaurant.
"I just want to see her make something of herself," he says.

Oh!! And as any TAR watcher can tell you, 1. last night's episode was BOMB-DIGGITY good (who knew Phil would get so gushy, though?!) and 2. previews for Survivor: Vanuatu are cropping up. Rupert needs to go the all-holy-fuck AWAY but I'm jazzed for the new season. I'll just be dusting off Mrs. Anne Probst's wedding veil in the other room if you need me....

Great bit on Morning Edition this morning by Mark Bowden, author of Black Hawk Down, Killing Pablo, and a correspondent for the Atlantic Monthly. He chronicles the "coming home" process many Americans experience as they return from the theater of war. Check it out.

CONGRATULATIONS, ERIN!!!!

Ms. D has become the proud owner of her first home and that is a big deal, worthy of a blog shout-out. I am not doing this to get in her good graces and be asked over for a glass of wine after work sometime in the near future. Not at all. Not me. Nuh-uh.

Also, a belated congratulations to Dave and D on their first house, and Whitney for her place as well. Crap. Now I feel all unaccomplished in my wee rented pad. But at least my friends are cool!!

Back in El Saddle-o (tm Myrna and Smirna)

Stitches, smitches, I rowed again this morning. Man, a week off was enough for me to feel a bit off my game (i.e. tiring earlier than usual) but I also pushed pretty hard, so excited was I to be on the water again. The Potomac was like glass...nary a wave or ripple to be had. Plus no wind to speak of, and a good rowing partner made for a PHAT day out. Lately we've been heading south from the boathouse, so I'm going under the Woodrow Wilson bridge several times a week, with a good close-up view of the construction. I have no idea what I'm looking at, mind you, but it all seems impressive enough.

Oh, and no, I haven't managed to see any of the rowing at the Olympics. StOOpid TV coverage...when they tell me rowing will be on "sometime between 12-6" that's pretty damn vague. I kept trying to see it on Sunday and came away with beach volleyball and gymnastics for my trouble. Don't fret, though--I'll make sure I see the world's best athletes rocking steady on that shite lake the Greeks rigged up for the Games.

An associates' degree at VoTech is the way to go

I'm sure we've all seen how Princeton Review put out its annual ranking of the top party schools in the country. They have another interesting feature on their website called Counselor-o-matic that lets you enter your stats/preferences (SAT scores, ideal school size, potential majors, etc.) and they'll let you know what are strong options for you, or safety schools, or which schools are TOTALLY OUT OF YOUR LEAGUE, YOU MORON. I'm pleased to report that my 18-year-old self chose well: when I narrowed it to Virginia schools William & Mary was a good match, above U of R and UVa. When I said I didn't care where I was geographically, I pegged Dartmouth, American, Emory, MIT, and--hahahahhahaahha--Tufts, all as good prospects. Try it out. (link courtesy of Sandy)

My version of a poll

I'm not tenacious like James and don't have the energy to find online polling programs, so I'm just going to ask outright and offer my comments field as your answer space:

How do we feel about people exercising outside but also simultaneously using their cell phones? I try to run outside whenever possible, usually along the Mall and GW Parkway trail, so I pass many other people out exercising. I would say that about 25% of those are on the phone as they run or bike, and I don't quite know how I feel about it. I can see having your phone with you--my little water pack has a space for one, for instance--and it's smart for emergencies. But I wouldn't go out to workout with the plan of also having all my daily chats at the same time. If you're gonna run, run. If you're gonna talk, get your ass off the path, chat, and then get your groove back on later.

OK, I guess I do know how I feel about it. Phones + exercise = jackasses. But still by all means lemme know what you think, too.

Train laughter = Crazy woman

I started reading David Sedaris' "Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim" on my morning commute today, and again on the way home and all I can say is: don't. Unless you don't mind people thinking you're slightly "off" or you aren't troubled with running the risk of snorting because you are laughing SO HARD (I'm not saying *I* did; quit looking at me!), this book, in public, is not for you.

P.S.--if you see me crying on the Orange Line in the next few days, it's tears of laughter. Don't call the Homeland Security tip line or anything.

What it says: blah troops...returning...blah.

What I see: YUM.

The controversy of the omissions is disappointing, for sure but you can bet your sweet self that I'm going to stock up on the Def Leppard cans. My hair-metal nostalgia has no scruples. I'll throw some Bon Jovi and Willie cans in there for good measure, but it's all about the Pyromania, baby.

Where to begin? I had a vrrr busy weekend filled with the best of stuff--time and activities with friends. As both Kristin and James mentioned, we all convened on Friday night for a wee dinner party that turned into a marathon Olympics Opening Ceremonies watching session. They didn't show any of the US rowers during the parade of athletes, but I will forgive them. I will not, however, turn a blind eye (or rather ear) to the pointless inane pap spewed by Katie and Bob. James ably recounted some of the worst of their gaffes, so let me just add my scorn for what a couple of mindless plastic simps they are. (EDIT: Steve also mentions the ceremonies and the Bjork-tion here and is absolutely SPOT ON in his characterization of Katie Couric as "perky little bitch." Well said.)

Saturday I trotted out my very high movie-going standards and saw Alien vs. Predator. No, I won't tell you who wins, silly! It was a festival of special effects, great fight scenes, and a barely (and by that I mean totally NOT) plausible story. But I still loved it. I knew what was coming and I jumped in my seat any-damn-way. I am to movies what Kristin is to reality TV--a blind acolyte. One of the best things about the experience, though, was that the theater was filled with tons of other fans who were, um, very vocal as the movie played. The slow, sly entrance of the Alien--that we could see but of course the actors could not--drew a "Giiiirl! Watch OUT!" from one woman. A particularly brutal end to one of the Alien vs. Predator fights elicited a heartfelt "DAAAAAMN!" from another man. And so on. It totally made the movie for me because I felt like I was watching *with* all of them (not to take away from the fact that I was watching it with Bryan, Sandy, and Marv, who were all excellent companions in their own right, as usual).

As if I could top that, we had a great night out Saturday with a huge gang of people to make merry because Robin and Rees were in town. What was going to be a quiet night at one bar turned into staying out until 5 a.m., and while I felt it yesterday, I would do it again. There's something about watching Matt climb up the Morgan's stories-high sideporch, or watching Rees and his mom dance at 3 a.m. that just warms the heart, y'know?

On the 7th day, Anne rested. But I also hauled myself out for a nice dinner and drinks at Sine. Who knew Pentagon Row was so ha'nin'?? The little square there was packed and active 'til well after 9 p.m. I can see why--it was such a gorgeous night--but still, I found it pleasantly surprising.

And now it's Monday again. How very, very sad.

G.I. Joe Veterans for Truth

Courtesy of Des and the inimitable Salon, this piece about the campaign to smear one of our greatest military men, and the legacy of his organization. Is there no honor anymore? Will there come a day when we have to whisper "Yo, Joe!" instead of shouting it with all the pride we possess in our blue-laser-toting patriotic bodies?

Meet Team U.S.A.

Courtesy of SI.com, some interesting factoids about the 500+ men and women who are bringing it, 'Merika-style, in Greece starting today.

Is there anyone out there who hasn't tried calling this number at some point?

I did back when the song first released (another reason why children under 5 should not be able to use the phone). My favorite part, though, is how the new plate has made Jenny's teenage son loathe to borrow the car. Very clever, Mom. (link courtesy of Obscure Store)

Julia Child has trussed her last duck a l'orange

Although her proto-CIA work in WWII is more interesting, IMO. I never watched her show per se, but whenever I hear her name I think of the Cosby Show episode where Cliff lets Theo carve the holiday turkey for the first time. As they're practicing on a head of lettuce, Cliff adopts Julia's nasal patrician accent and it is pee-your-britches funny. So now I'll always associate Julia Child with the CIA and pants-wetting. Quelle legacy.

Who knew....

D.C. men were so hypocritically exacting in their fashion standards?

I find that surfing the net is a lot like those thought strains that visit me at 2 a.m. You know the ones I mean...you're lying there, wakeful, and start thinking of something and then 20 minutes later catch yourself thinking of something so UTTERLY UNRELATED that you stop and ask, "How did I get here?" Reading things on the 'net, complete with the joy of linking, is exactly like that for me. After an hour I'll be on an article on a site I've never seen before and didn't go looking for and then begin to backtrack to remember how I got there in the first place.

This is all by way of explaining the following cribbed offering. Kristin sent me a link to one of my favorite writers, which sent me somewhere that sent me somewhere that ended me up here. And I love this list and think it's effing brilliant, particularly numbers 3, 11, 20, 26, and 28. This is my kind of wisdom, my kind of truth. Enjoy.

The Wisdom, the truth
Since blowing stateside, I've heard 3 jokes. THREE. And they were all about Michael Jackson. That's LAME, people, LAME! I come from the country where people laugh after funerals and smile in the rain.

So, as part of what I hope to be a regular feature, I present a series of 'funnies' as they used to be called in bulk emails we got before they invented Viagra.

Today's installment is from the wisdom of northern comic Peter Kay, imparting the truth, knowledge and laughs of English life:
----
1) Triangular sandwiches taste better than square ones.
2) At the end of every party there is always a girl crying.
3) One of the most awkward things that can happen in a pub is when your pint-to-toilet cycle gets synchronised with a complete stranger.
4) You've never quite sure whether it's ok to eat green crisps.
5) Everyone who grew up in the 80's has entered the digits 55378008 into a calculator.
6) Reading when you're drunk is horrible.
7) Sharpening a pencil with a knife makes you feel really manly.
8) You're never quite sure whether it's against the law or not to have a fire in your back garden.
10) Nobody ever dares make cup-a-soup in a bowl.
11) You never know where to look when eating a banana.
12) Its impossible to describe the smell of a wet cat.
13) Prodding a fire with a stick makes you feel manly.
14) Rummaging in an overgrown garden will always turn up a bouncy ball.
15) You always feel a bit scared when stroking horses.
16) Everyone always remembers the day a dog ran into your school.
17) The most embarrassing thing you can do as schoolchild is to call your teacher mum or dad.
18) The smaller the monkey the more it looks like it would kill you at the first given opportunity.
19) Some days you see lots of people on crutches.
20) Every bloke has at some stage while taking a pee flushed half way through and then raced against the flush.
21) Old women with mobile phones look wrong
22) It's impossible to look cool whilst picking up a Frisbee.
23) Driving through a tunnel makes you feel excited.
24) You never ever run out of salt.
25) Old ladies can eat more than you think.
26) You can't respect a man who carries a dog.
27) There's no panic like the panic you momentarily feel when you've got your hand or head stuck in something.
28) No one knows the origins of their metal coat hangers.
29) Despite constant warning, you have never met anybody who has had their arm broken by a swan.
30) The most painful household incident is wearing socks and stepping on an upturned plug.
31) People who don't drive slam car doors too hard .
32) You've turned into your dad the day you put aside a thin piece of wood specifically to stir paint with.
33) Everyone had an uncle who tried to steal their nose.
34) Bricks are horrible to carry.
35) In every plate of chips there is a bad chip.

Kristin isn't leaving us to go to graduate school. As it turns out, she's headed for the West Coast to join this man in his unusual crime spree. He must have a 3rd grade diary like hers. (link courtesy of Obscure Store)

On the way to Marvelous Market

Things I saw, thinks I thunked:

1. Saw one of these. (How to tell the difference between it and a Chinook, you ask? Look at the wheels.)

2. I love root beer. I'm not a huge soda fan, but when I get a hankering, NOTHING tastes as good. I will full on stop in my tracks for a Sioux City Sarsaparilla. I like the deceptive quality of the bottle, too. Wrapped w/ a napkin, it looked like I was enjoying a frosty alcoholic beverage on my lunchbreak, and that's an impression I'm more than keen to give.

3. A nice lady on the PA system was giving inspirational advice; it went a little something like this:

When you want it the most, there's no easy way out
When you're ready to go, and your heart's left in doubt
Don't give up on your faith
Love comes to those who believe it
And that's the way it is

Amen sister!!

WORD.

This is an excellent choice. Man is badass and one-of-a-kind. (Link courtesy of Adam)

PS: HAIL TO THE REDSKINS

Miss Anne got an Ow-ee!!!

Loyal readers, it is but too true. I am wounded. This morning after rowing practice I was (of course) late and in a hurry to get outta the boathouse. I was running through the boat bay, and as I passed an 8 in a rack close to the ground, I snagged my right shin on the rigging. Riggers are 2-foot long pieces of metal that make a triangle out from the side of the boat; it's where the oars go. Anyhoo, I felt the tug but didn't realize how srrrsss the damage was until I got to the car and saw the blood RUNNING DOWN MY LEG. Then upon inspection at home I discovered, "Huh. This thing is deep as the all-damn-devil." Away to Arlington Urgent Care I went, and a good thing I did, too. I am now 1. full of antibiotics and 2. have stitches. I just wasn't going to mess around with the Potomac water that definitely got into that cut, y'know? The Doss don't play petri dish. It doesn't hurt, and I'm more peeved at myself than anything because now I have to miss practice for a week to keep the cut clean and dry. However, any and all sympathies are welcomed, as are housecalls wherein you deliver chocolate and beer to my door.

So close

A team of four rowers from England were attempting to row across the Atlantic, to best a record set in 1896. Unfortunately, just shy of the English coast, the boat ran into rough water, was split in 2, and the rowers had to be rescued on August 8th. Everyone came out of it alright, but how heartbreaking, no? Especially since the proceeds were going to charity. I'm sure they'll try again, but still.

Claude, the thought of rowing the Atlantic makes me want to curl up and play dead. That would scare the crap out of me. I bow to these guys, for rill.

It's so nice out I don't feel the need to bitch. I know! Can you believe it?! This whole weekend was so glorious, full of good food, lots of outdoor exercise, fun company, and relaxation that I am in good spirits. I'm wearing comfy clothes, having a good hair day, and walked to work under crystal blue skies that show no signs of abating. There must be some sort of cosmic rift, but who am I to question?

There's one more superfreak in heaven

Rick James done gone and died today.

I peeped one of these on my way to H&M for the aforementioned unfunded shopping. I? WANT ONE.

It's this kind of a day

A pastel, italic, stop-and-hug-yourself-and-grin-because-it-is-THAT-beautiful-outside kind of day.

A different font, babies-in-the-park kind of day.

An I'm-going-out-at-lunch-to-buy-new-clothes-I-can't-afford-but-I'm-feeling-so-jaunty-I-can't-help-myself kind of day.

An I-wish-everyone-I-love-were-here-day-so-we-could-share-the-gorgeosity-together kind of day.

Happy beautiful Friday y'all!

Bill has a hilarious graphic up about the TRUE color-coding of the threat warning system, and it got me to thinking about Oscar the Grouch, whose face is just too precious for words. Then I went and looked at his Sesame Street bio and realized that he is me in puppet form. Minus that whole uni-brow thing. Somebody needs to get Queer Eye up in that piece and do a little plucky plucky on OTG. Other than that, we're perfect.

For Shelby

But really for me, too. I don't know how I feel about the casting of "RAFE" Fiennes (good grief, why don't the Brits pronounce things the way they're spelled?) but I LERV me some Brendan Gleeson. He is scrumtrellescent.

Are you looking for me?

Chances are I'm watching the game.

I bet this shit never happens on the Underground

Only in D.C.

(warning to Adam: you may--GASP--have to log in to Washington Post to read this)

Maybe my X-name should be "Chiro"

Not to be confused w/ "Pyro" or "Cairo"...it has a nice ring, if you ignore that I know nothing about bones other than that they hold up our skin. Anyway, as I mentioned I went to mine yesterday. Normally I go to her Dupont Circle office but for some reason she is temporarily ONLY working out of her office in Southeast. While her office near me caters more to professionals who come in during their workday, her office in SE seems more to have a community-outreach feel. The SE office has lots of religious paraphernalia strewn about, and pictures of prominent African Americans and information on AA organizations (NAACP, UNCF, etc).

When I walked into the packed waiting room yesterday one of the first things I saw was an enormous man with his feet immersed in a tub of what looked to be bright green mud. Well, not looked to be--it WAS bright green mud. Apparently one of the most popular treatments at the SE office is organic foot baths that purport to release toxins and boost immunity, stimulate power centers in the brain, etc. All very homeopathic, not to mention biblical. The brochure encouraging patients to get this treatment finishes by quoting the Bible passage about Jesus and the washing of the feet. Hmm.

BUT, the best thing about mud dude was that he was a FULL ON QUEEN. He wasn't in his drag, but he was talking a blue streak about it, and his performance that night. I heard many uses of the words "fierce" and "girlfriend." He had a high, almost falsetto voice totally at odds with his physique, and anyone could spot the immaculate wax job he had had done on his eyebrows. Even without his gear it was clear to me that he was a she in the best sense. I wish I knew where she got her groove on; that is a show I would pay good money to see.

Early release for good behavior

Or I just have a chiropractor's appointment, so I'm outtie at 2:45. You kids have fun...play nice.

Welcome Home Vroom Vroom!!!

Grace is back in the D.C. 'hood and we are so happy to have her here. Who needs "cosmpolitan" and "trendy" New York City when you have thrill-a-minute Fairfax?! Clearly, there is no comparison. ;) For serious, so glad you're around Vroom^2.

Don't they know people are trying to honeymoon?

Ooops. No surfing for D&B on the Outer Banks this week.

THANK YOU JEEBUS

Charlie Murphy will be back for at least 2 more seasons y'all. "And there was much rejoicing in the land."

Peeing in your pants isn't sexy

"The Village" opened on Friday to rave reviews and packed theater showings, and I very much want to see it. I'm a huge fan of "Signs" and am more than a little fascinated w/ M. Night, wunderkund that he is. However, I caught a "Behind the Scenes" on the movie last night which gave me just enough details to get good and scared. Then I woke up around 3 am, and in my sleep-haze started thinking about the little red-hooded creatures that terrorize said village in the movie and I FRIGHTENED THE EVER-LOVING CRAP OUTTA MYSELF. I lay there in bed afraid to dangle my leg over the side of the bed, let alone get up and use the bathroom. So now I'm just going to have to wait for the DVD so that I can watch it in broad daylight. Even then...so afraid.

Watch it, because Steve says to

Le coworker forwarded me the link to Ewan MacGregor's round-the-world trip, and posts details about the trip, TV show it spawned, and fansites, among other things, on his blog.

Why? 'Cause it's all that's on my mind at this point, that's why

It's been a 6 Series kind of week. I saw one of these on the way back from lunch earlier this week. Then I saw this while on 395 today (minus the snazzy paint job, of course, which is really too bad). Any of y'all want to gift me with one, I will graciously accept. Thanks in advance.

Also, I just had a compliment given to me while at Target; the check-out guy said I had pretty eyes. The hilarious thing about that is, I had just come from my freelance gig--I do some archeological conservation on the side to keep some semblance of museum credibility--and had been air abrading. This involves using very finely ground powder vented under compression to slowly strip away things like rust from artifacts. Thing is, after 4 hours of that, my eyes were totally dry and not a little veiny/bloodshot. So, this man's concept of beauty is, um...unconventional.

Finally, NoVA is sauna-rific right now. I've decided I need to live a lifestyle where I follow autumn around the globe. I'll simply relocate every few months to keep myself in a band of 55-60 degree crisp jeans-and-sweater weather. Now, to find the Sugar Daddy to facilitate said lifestyle....

BlogSport

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