My apologies for taking so long to update the expat! I just returned from my first gay wedding in California not too long ago. My dear friends, Travis and Hernan just tied the knot at a truly fabulous and touching wedding at the Disney Concert Hall. It was a stunning venue and even had paparazzi, helicopters and, yes, the USC marching band. I'll forgive you for that one, Hernan. Only because Travis seemed thrilled with the surprise...and because they were incredible. Anyway...I'm really happy for both of them.
Speaking of California...
I recently discovered where all the other Cali expats in Washington hang out: The California State Society. Yes...there's a society of Californians working in D.C. who are dedicated to networking, socializing and improving the image of California in our nation's capital...but from what I can tell...it's mostly about the drinking. God bless.
So...here's the story. Every state has a society in D.C. that serves as the networking body for people from that state working in the District. It's chock full of staffers from different congressional/senatorial offices. Judging by the way some of these 20 something staffers were dressed...there's something more than networking going on...
Last night, the CA State Society held it's annual Back to College Night. Basically, all the major colleges and universities in CA send an alum to staff a table full of free school pride goodies. The important part was the two large bars with hours worth of free wine and beer. Basically, it just made all of us feel old...especially because some of the alumni were at least 90 years old. But, we had a blast. I finally got to talk about what was on my Tivo with some other UCLA alumni. We were all lamenting about the District's general lack of pop culture knowledge. Here are some other things I floated by my fellow California expats:
- Where does one go to lay out for a tan in the District without getting mosquito bites all over? This wasn't a problem in La La land. And...it's just gross because you basically look like you've ended up with "backne." I may or may not be speaking from experience here.
- Why is it that wearing a really hot pair of jeans with a cute blazer, shirt and tie isn't acceptable as "business casual," but tucking a polo into some cheap gap khakis is? This is just appalling. Apparently, everyone in this town would rather look like an ex pro golfer than a cute professional.
- Does anyone watch Bravo around here? Does anyone watch anything other than CSPAN and MSNBC? Honestly, I have SOOO much to debrief on about Project Runway (even though this season is nothing compared to last year's)
- Where the HELL are the luxury spas here? My sources tell me that I'm supposed to drive to certain parts of Virginia and Pennsylvania. That seems ridiculous. With the amount of money that there is in this town...it shouldn't be hard to track down DC's version of Burke Williams or something. Seriously, people.
So...as you can see...it was a productive mixer...especially in that they had no problem refilling my wine glass several times. While I was getting drunk with the California Expats in the basement of the Rayburn House Office building, there were a LOT of staffers scurrying around like bees trying to deal with the $700 billion economic bailout. God's speed, kids...God's speed.
Oh...and you MUST check out the website for the California State Society...cutest thing EVER (there's a bear on a surfboard!):
http://www.cssdc.org/
Thursday, September 25, 2008
The California State Society
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Cupcake Speculation!
This just in from WeHo Expat informant, Christina. Thank god I just joined a new gym. Thank god.
But seriously, NYC...get over yourself! Perhaps gourmet cupcakes sprouted up in Gotham before the land of La, but must you relegate LA's trendy Pinkberry craze to a parenthetical notation? As if that was a minor event. This is almost as bad as when Trader Joe's popped up in Manhattan. I can't TELL you how many New Yorkers would come up to me and go on about "this Trader Joes...you must try this Trader Joes. They have all sorts of inexpensive treats and amazing food...even $2 dollar wine!" Trying to explain to someone from Manhattan that Trader Joes actually started in Pasadena in the 1970's was like trying to convince them that dumpsters were a more modern way to dispose of one's trash (rather than letting it become a rat hotel in front of the Prada in SoHo).
Just remember, NYC...some ofyour fads just DON'T catch on....rice pudding comes to mind.
Will Cupcakes Be the Next Krispy Kreme?
Cupcakes at Magnolia Bakery in the Village. (Photos: Joyce Dopkeen/The New York Times)
New York City may well be the cupcake capital of America. Magnolia Bakery of Greenwich Village has produced a list of progeny very Old Testament in length: Magnolia begat Billy’s and Buttercup, and Buttercup in turn begat Sugar Sweet Sunshine.
And then there are Crumbs, Cupcake Cafe (which dates to 1988) and Burgers and Cupcakes. Los Angeles appears to be hopping on the cupcake bandwagon, but New York remains the genesis of cupcake awareness. (Los Angeles, however, gave us the yogurt craze with Pinkberry.) [Read more...}Wednesday, September 3, 2008
The Cupcake Economy
Another endearing feature of life here in the District is that the whole city gets up in a tizzy over fads TODAY that happened 3-4 years ago in Los Angeles and New York. One such phenomenon opened here a week or two ago: Hello, Cupcake. Even though most of my compatriots here flee to the East to take advantage of cool ocean breezes, Hello, Cupcake managed to bring together the coiffed lobbyists of K street and the Connecticut Ave policy wonks for a great cupcake feast...or maybe it's been more like a run on the bank!
Hello, Cupcake is one of those gourmet cupcake shops that charges you $3 for cupcakes with charming names like "24 carrots" and "rootbeer float." Allow me to share my feelings about why we normally feel guilty about purchasing such a treat:
- Single-serve cupcakes are usually only available in the big, slightly run-down supermarkets
- These supermarkets usually have those bakeries in the back corner where some 70 year-old woman named "Edna" pulls things out of a questionable case complete with blinking florescent lights
- Management usually sticks Edna in the back because she's the last union employee left in the store, and they just want her to retire, already
- The cupcakes always inevitably have those creepy plastic snowmen heads, balloons, "clown" bears, shamrocks...whatever...stuck in the top. Most of them aren't even edible. That's just wrong.
EdnaBut then comes along Hello, Cupcake. They don't have creepy plastic decor in the top. The frosting and cake is higher quality. And, let's be real: they put everything into a pretty box and slap a sexy sticker on the top derived from a Hello, Kitty aesthetic that just makes you feel like a true successful professional. For weeks, elated Washingtonians have been walking up and down the avenue beaming with their boxes of cupcakes (even though they spent their entire lunch hour in line).
What's particularly amusing about the whole phenomenon is that Hello, Cupcake has been running out of cupcakes everyday! So, they've started to RATION them: 4 cupcakes/person. Enter: the cupcake economy. These cupcakes have become such a hot commodity here on Connecticut Ave that an entire workplace economy has developed around their trade. Have a project for which you could really use some help from another employee? Offer them a cupcake. Are you THAT GUY who always offers to share a cab with your workmates for your meetings up on the Hill and doesn't ever have cash...thereby owing a substantial sum to your colleagues? No problem...offer a cupcake. You see, the limited nature of these little frosted dreams in the District has rendered them their weight in gold.
God forbid they offer some kind of "holiday" cupcake basket.
How long will this last? The answer: 3-4 years after the cupcake fad died down in Los Angeles and New York.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
No, kiddo...that's not chalk dust
When I first worked here in the District two years ago as a summer law clerk, I quickly realized that this city takes the "work hard, play hard" slogan to heart. The bar I practically lived at then had a 2 for 1 "happy hour" that was actually from 5-9 p.m. every night. Wouldn't that just make it a happy night? One of my other favorite new "happy hours" is the "Beat the Clock" happy hour at Nellie's Gay Sports Bar. Yes...it starts at 5 and ends at 8. Each hour, the price for happy hour drinks goes up a dollar...prompting the homo professionals to guzzle liquor at a faster rate...earlier in the evening...to keep more money in their pocket. Wow.
Anyway...that's just to give you a sense, for better or for worse, that this city likes to cozy up with something other than a good book when they're off the clock. Then, came this story in the Metro section. I think it was particularly snarky for the reporter to mention that the kids at this school thought of the baby crack dealing teacher as "the coolest woman alive." I'll bet she was...
Teacher Gave Kids Drugs, Police Say
Ex-Wootton High Instructor Charged With Distributing Cocaine to 2 Students
By Katherine Shaver and Sarah Marston
Washington Post Staff Writers
Wednesday, August 27, 2008; B01
The students who put together the 2007 yearbook at Thomas S. Wootton High School in Rockville dubbed Theresa C. Duarte "the coolest woman alive."
But Montgomery County police say the former English teacher and yearbook adviser's relationship with two students turned criminal in June, when she gave them cocaine -- one of them on two occasions -- in her Rockville home.
Duarte, 44, of the 1000 block of Brice Road, was arrested Monday on a warrant charging her with two counts of distributing narcotics and two counts of contributing to delinquent conditions of a child. Police said that they were investigating whether additional students received drugs from Duarte.
Duarte resigned from Wootton in mid-June, at the end of last school year, for personal reasons, Principal Michael Doran said. Doran said school officials are cooperating with police but don't believe Duarte provided any drugs on campus. The investigation did not begin until after her resignation, police said.
"I'm shocked," Doran said of Duarte's arrest. "It came out of the blue. I'm disappointed if any adult takes advantage of his or her position as a teacher and role model. . . . She was popular, and she produced a good yearbook. She seemed like a regular teacher." Cute. Real cute.
Doran said he didn't know the two students' names. He added that he was discouraged that news of the arrest yesterday marred an otherwise successful start to a new school year for the campus of 2,500 students.
In a charging document, Detective Karen Carvajal wrote that a current Wootton student, identified only as "Student A," reported receiving cocaine from Duarte twice in June. Another student, identified as "Student B," received cocaine from Duarte just before school ended in June, when Duarte still worked at Wootton, Carvajal wrote.
In an Aug. 20 interview with police, Carvajal wrote, Duarte said she kept cocaine in her bathroom and acknowledged giving some to two students.
"Duarte stated she could not remember when she gave student A cocaine," the detective wrote. "However, she believes it was approximately one week after she gave cocaine to student B."
Carvajal wrote that she found a straw, a folded paper and a small amount of white powder, believed to be cocaine, while searching Duarte's home.
Duarte was released from the Montgomery County Detention Center yesterday after posting $150,000 bail. William C. Brennan, an attorney for Duarte, declined to comment yesterday.
Police said they began investigating Duarte on Aug. 19, after county Child Protective Services officials said they had received information that Duarte was providing illegal drugs to Wootton students. Police said they did not know why the two students were at Duarte's home and are not releasing their ages to protect their identities.
"This is still very much an ongoing investigation to find out if there are any other incidents," said officer Tenesha Jensen, a Montgomery police spokeswoman.
Kate Harrison, a spokeswoman for the school system, said Duarte had taught at Wootton since fall 2004. The school's principal said that Duarte did not teach English last year but worked part time as a yearbook adviser.
A former student of Duarte's at Wootton said last night that she was highly regarded.
"She's the best," said Chad Meyers, a sophomore at Virginia Tech, who graduated from Wootton in 2007. ''Everyone loved her," he said. "She's such a sweetheart.
"This story is crazy," he added. "It's the most ridiculous thing."
She began her Montgomery teaching career during the 2003-04 school year as a long-term substitute teacher at Albert Einstein High School in Kensington, Harrison said.
Duarte had just completed a master's degree in teaching at Johns Hopkins University when she joined the Wootton staff, according to an August 2004 newsletter published by the school's PTSA.
Before teaching, she had graduated summa cum laude from the University of Maryland and had earned an MBA from Johns Hopkins, the newsletter said. She had "left a highly successful business career in marketing to return to her first love, English," and she attended a Johns Hopkins program that allows students to earn their master's in teaching while working in Montgomery schools.
Supervisors and students at Einstein gave her "rave reviews" as an intern and teacher there, the newsletter said.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Congress' Bitch Takes to the Streets of Denver!
Was it just me, or did most of the Democratic Convention look like a Nationals game, where all the fans knew we were going to lose by the 2nd inning and took to the aisles to hunt down the nearest purveyor of booze and hot dogs? Those were some BORING looking speakers...UNTIL...Hillary. Thank god. It's like she hit the home run that the convention needed to justify the ungodly amount they probably spent on that set.
That aside...we District residents may have been the bastard child at the convention, but that doesn't mean we didn't make our voices heard!
For those of you who don't already know, one of the District's most endearing characteristics is its sad state of political representation. You see, they were cunning back when they created Washington, "District" of Columbia because they made it sound like a classy girl. With all the other islands that we clobbered (mostly during WWII), we just labeled them territories and handed their oversight over to some inept bureaucrats at the Dept. of Interior (oh yes...much of their administration is up to the DOI...i'm not kidding: http://www.doi.gov/oia/). But somehow...the fair city of Washington became the regal "District of Columbia." God only knows where they pulled that from, but in reality....it still means we're Congress' bitch.
We have one non-voting member of Congress. We still get taxed. And, Congress pretty much has plenary power over everything we do. But, we persevere. And, we protest:
At the DENVER MINT!!
This is a peach of a story from our friends at DCist. I will be the FIRST to buy one of these quarters:
We will host a peaceful rally outside the Denver Mint and pass out wooden coins to the public because the mint rejected the DC government's request to imprint the words "taxation without representation" on DC's quarters and because…D.C. Wire reported on Monday that the event's organizers were running into a little trouble getting the appropriate permit from the city of Denver..."American democracy isn't worth a wooden nickel without a vote in Congress!"
Oh, Muffy!
A baby snapping turtle: this natural resident of East Hampton thought our pool would be a nice new home. They're a lot less scary when they're the size of a quarter!Well, this past weekend, we here at the Weho Expat took a little vacation to that truly Eastern-most East Coast get away: THE HAMPTONS! All I could think was, "Toto, I don't think we're in West Hollywood anymore!" A few observations:
- The train is for the little people. This is the most L.A. mentality I've yet seen on the East Coast. For those of you who don't know, the Hamptons is very spread-out and natural. Most of it is a really beautiful nature preserve chock full of woodland creatures that make you feel like Snow White when she's cleaning. For this reason, the transport mode of choice is definitely a car...and not just any car...but some kind of European sports car. If you have a large family (or in our case, a caravan of hungover gay men), then a Range Rover will suffice.
- Lobster Salad. Get ready to eat a LOT of lobster. Lobster salad is about as ubiquitous in the Hamptons as sunscreen in L.A. Every home you visit, you're offered lobster salad. And this is NO cheap appetizer, so you clean your plate!
- The sales rack at J. Crew. Ok, West Coasters. Have you have wondered who buys all that stuff that goes RIGHT to the sales rack at J.Crew. Well, I have an answer for you: residents of the Upper East Side who vacay in the Hamptons. Every heinous pastel pair of shorts...and even the ones with the little embroidered lighthouses and sail boats...are aplenty on the beaches of the Hamptons.
- Good old fashioned race exclusion. This is where the term "WASP" was invented. Truly. You'll know that when you overhear your first conversation about why EAST Hampton developed after SOUTH Hampton kicked out all the gays and jews. HA! Brown people aren't even on the radar. This place is so white...it was only really ever concerned about excluding other wealthy gays and jews. From my cursory (and tipsy) sociological research, I understand that Southampton still feels very strongly about keeping its community as waspy as possible. Wow.
- Croquet. Yes, folks, they do play croquet in these affluent playgrounds. I don't have much to say on this subject other than that (a) I suck and; (b) mike kicks into major Jackie O. mode (as denoted on his face in our waspy picture together)
Monday, August 18, 2008
Damn you, Tucker Carlson!
We, here at the WeHo Expat, are happy to be back from hiatus in Lawrence, Kansas. Upon returning from the land of corn and Jayhawks, I was once again reminded about how prevalent one particular fashion trend is here in the District: bowties.
Now, I'm a policy wonk at a think tank in Washington, DC. Lately, I've started to wonder if this is some kind of informal uniform for our profession....ummmm......yea.
Just to be clear...there's nothing innately wrong with bowties. They are, however, to be worn judiciously, and by very particular kinds of people. For you lawyers out there, a bowtie suits our good friend, Professor Charles W. Kingsfield, Jr. (from the movie, The Paper Chase) quite well:
This is the bastard that I blame for dorky, 20-something Washingtonians wearing bowties:
Some of you out there might actually be fans of Tucker Carlson (I'm sorry), but he is not to be trusted. While riding the metro last night, I saw one of these wonks-in-training on the redline and he couldn't have been a day over 14 years old. And yet...there he was...big red bowtie...mop of hair...and a seersucker suit (and oh god...don't even get me started on the overuse of seersucker in this town...it has to be some Southern thing). You see, this poor 14 year-old boy is probably just finishing his unpaid internship on the Hill, only to return to his hometown to discover that, indeed, no one else in their right mind would dress that way outside the Beltway.
Today, I am issuing a proclamation regarding bowties:
Commandment the First. Bowties are only for old men (go to hell, Tucker Carlson)
Commandment the Second. In order to "pull off" a bowtie, you need to have a "study" equipped with leather club chair, an old piano, 15-year scotch, some vinyl Bluebird records and an assortment of books with titles that only frequent readers of the New Yorker would recognize.
Commandment the Third. You need to work in a dorky profession like mine (think tank or other policy-related field) in the District. Eccentric professors, of course, always have a pass on this one.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
New Neighbors...and the Alpha Cat
As many of you know, we used to live in a bungalow courtyard that was literally our own version of Melrose Place. Most of the neighbors knew each other, drank with each other, and generally looked after one another's bungalows. Those years that I spent in the Bungalow were 4 of the best years of my life. It represented a lifestyle once heralded by the great Southland real estate boosters of yesteryear, which still exists, but only in certain corners of L.A.'s modern urban sprawl.
All our little bungalows were built by set builders as a day job back in the early 1920's. Imagine all the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed aspiring actors and actresses stepping off trains from the dreary cities of the East, only to find air scented with orange blossoms and perpetual spa-like sunshine. Yes, this is the reason that Southern California swelled to the 18 million-person metropolis that you see today.
I had a number of ways that I ignored the worst elements of Los Angeles, while highlighting its best and most unique. Other than telling people that smog made for FABULOUS sunsets (which is QUITE true, I'll have you know), I viewed the bungalow courtyard as my sanctuary. Our dear neighbor, Robert, worked hard everyday to maintain landscaping and a garden that gave the famous Garden of Allah a run for its money. Hummingbirds were a plenty, and most of the year, the jasmine creeping up the side of everyone's french windows gave the air an extradorniary aroma.
Ok, enough romantic waxing about L.A. Now, I live among lesbians and: The Alpha Cat.
To refresh you, I found our new wonderful English basement through my friend. He runs a marketing company here in the District. Naturally, I first met him at my Norm stool at O-bar. He appreciated my affections for fine bourbon. Good man. That aside, he was out gardening one morning and met the new owner of the brownstone next to him who happened to be looking for tenants of the his newly-renovated English basement as of July 1. Perfect.
So we moved in and started meeting the neighbors. First off, I don't know if it's the ample space for dogs or the high density of hardware stores nearby, but Kalorama is LESBIAN COUNTRY. Every other car parked on the street is a Subaru station wagon and there are a lot of women walking the block who look like nice granola mountain biking girls, but will probably cut you if you mess with them.
So, our direct upstairs neighbor is a lesbian attorney. The woman above her is a German TV coorespondent named Frau Hanni Hersch (how fab is that?), and the two girls in the English basement next door: yup, you guessed it, lesbians...with dog...and in the process of taking the Bar exam.
Then, there's my neighbor who sits on his porch with a glass of red wine, a copy of the New Yorker, and a paternal sensibility that only makes me hope he hasn't procreated...for the sake of his potential offspring's sanity. Rather than describing him, let me give you a little rundown of one of the first "conversations" I had with him. He is denoted as "A" below (for "ass"), and I'm just "E":
A: So, you gotta cat down there?
E: Yup. I sure do. His name's Nemo. He's a great cat.
A: Ha, ha, ha (seriously...he laughs like an overfed warlord). Well *takes a puff of his rank cigar*, let me tell you....my cat...you better understand...he's the ALPHA CAT. Yup *another puff*, don't let that cat of yours out, or mine'll put him in his place.
E: He, he....he *nervous laughter*. Ummm..ohh...ok.
A: Yup. He's the big man feline around here.
"Big man feline?" Seriously! Now, this is only a small glimpse into his personality. I refuse to subject you to more. But, I think I just witnessed a perverted form of dick-slinging. Who talks about their cat's alpha-ness? The especially funny part is that Nemo had a little outdoor time the other day and...
He met the "alpha" cat.
Well, not to gloat, but Mike and I realized REAL fast just how beefy Nemo really is. Nemo is about 3 times the size of the "alpha cat". They started doing that hilarious alley cat rrrrrroow ritual and Nemo puffed up like a porcupine. He took one step up the stairs...and the alpha cat ran off.
So, I'm not sure what this means for my neighbor's sense of confidence. Part of me wants to drop Nemo in front of this alpha cat again when he's out there drinking his wine and smoking his cigar, but that might just make him worse.
You know this guy must drive a Lotus or something...
Monday, August 4, 2008
The Commute [Part I]
Well, it had to happen at some point. And, I figured that Monday was an apt occasion for a posting on how we all get to work. After much pondering, I've realized there is far too much material upon which to comment for one posting, so we're going to have a multi-part series on commuting. Now that I've spent my first few weeks on my new commute here in the District, I thought I might share some observations about my transition from the land of convertible mobile offices (aka: cars in Los Angeles) to the nervous, live-by-the-factory whistle, industrial-era grind of the East Coast.
First of all, let's get this out of the way: I lived without a car for most of my residence in SoCal. That's right. It can be done. I didn't die. The world didn't end...and I actually ended up enjoying my life more without one. I credit WeHo for most of this....more on that later.
Buses
Wow...seriously people. What are your problems with city buses? I really thought this was an L.A. thing, but the attitude out here is almost as bad. People only seem comfortable commuting via car or rail. If you've lived in/spent considerable time in Manhattan, DC and several other Eastern cities, you may have realized that buses are often a faster option. I realize there's something far more romantic about taking a train or subway, especially in DC and L.A. where buses regularly blow oil out the back and light on fire. No, I'm not kidding. But, buses are practical, necessary and often much more inexpensive forms of transport for any quality city.
Wow, Monday sure as hell put me in a dark mood.In the District, the disparity in service between the Metro Rail (subway) and the Metro Bus, is especially sad because, as is almost always the case in the District, Congress controls transit funds. What does this mean? Congress is usually much more willing to dump billions into the Metro Rail because it's geared toward the suburbs in places like Virginia (where many of the...ahem...Republicans actually live). But, they put practically nothing into the bus system. Honestly, Metro Buses look like after market purchases by the District from developing countries.
So, the message here is to support your local bus service. It definitely presents its challenges (the aromas, the breakdowns, the village crazies who've identified you as their new BFF, etc). But, until a broader, more diverse ridership is invested in the bus system, it'll never improve.
Yea...you thought this blog was going to be all fluff, didn't you? Ha!
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Does EVERYONE work for the Fed in this town? Even the turtles!
Next time you see some innocent looking turtle meandering around...don't be fooled!
Marijuana Garden Found With Help of Researcher's Turtle
By Paul Duggan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, July 31, 2008; 12:23 PM
A Montgomery County man was arrested after a researcher tracking a radio-equipped turtle in Rock Creek Park found the animal standing in a garden of marijuana plants in a remote area of the park, police said today.
Sgt. Robert Lachance of the U.S. Park Police said the researcher, who works for the National Park Service, was tracking a box turtle July 14 when he discovered about 10 marijuana plants growing in a section of the park just south of the Maryland border. The turtle has a radio transmitter attached to its shell, allowing researchers to monitor its movements and visually examine it from time to time.
The researcher notified authorities after finding the plants -- about a pound and a half of marijuana worth roughly $6,500 when sold in smaller amounts on the street, police said. Lachance said investigators covertly watched the marijuana garden until a man showed up to tend to the plants.
Isiah Johnson, 19, of the 2300 block of Washington Avenue in Chevy Chase, was arrested Wednesday and charged with possessing marijuana with intent to distribute, Lachance said.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Relinquishing My Driver's License
So, at some point I have to go and get an actual District driver's license. This seemed like a mundane task until one of my friends told me that they SHRED your other state one right in front of you. OH GOD! What happened to the hole punch? I have a special attachment to my driver's license. I don't necessarily think I look stunning or anything, but (a) I'm VERY tan; and (b) glow in the dark bears.
Glow in the dark bears, you ask? That's right...for those of you who don't know, if you hold your Cali driver's license up to a blacklight there are California flags that pop up all over it. It's SOOOO cool:
This also brings me to how much I like flags. Another thing that the District and Cali share with each other are their INCREDIBLY nationalistic flags. First of all, California's says in big bold letters, "CALIFORNIA REPUBLIC," and the District's just looks like some small soviet eastern bloc state. Both flags give me that pleasant "don't **** with us" kind of feeling.
So the next question all you District readers are probably going to ask me: are you going to be one of those annoying residents who (a) puts a DC flag up over the front door of their brownstone; and (b) wears one of those shirts with the DC flag and your neighborhood name plastered under it?
My response:
(a) Of course. I will indeed fly my District flag above my door...with pride.
(b) I WOULD. However, I've already realized that everyone laughs at me when I say I live in Kalorama. It's a neighborhood that doesn't quite have as much street cred and edge to it like, say, Columbia Heights. I'd basically just be telling everyone that I live in that absurdly sheltered, affluent neighborhood in Northwest that would continue its daily life as usual even if the rest of the city broke into riots and flames. That would just be dorky.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Starbucks...gaybucks...and the importance of "pretty"
I walk by 3 Starbucks on my 10 minute walk to work. Now, I'm from Seattle originally. I could make the trite commentary about how Starbucks is "burnt" coffee, edges out independent coffee shops and causes world famine and genocide...but no. I like Starbucks. I actually enjoy the coffee and I like that it's reliably on EVERY street corner in America.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Flex Time
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Hipsters vs. Tools
1. an implement, esp. one held in the hand, as a hammer, saw, or file, for performing or facilitating mechanical operations. 2. any instrument of manual operation. 3. the cutting or machining part of a lathe, planer, drill, or similar machine. 4. the machine itself; a machine tool. 5. anything used as a means of accomplishing a task or purpose: Education is a tool for success. 6. a person manipulated by another for the latter's own ends; cat's-paw. 7. the design or ornament impressed upon the cover of a book. 8. Underworld Slang. a. a pistol or gun. b. a pickpocket. hip·ster Audio Help (hĭp'stər) Pronunciation Key n. Slang One who is exceptionally aware of or interested in the latest trends and tastes, especially a devotee of modern jazz. 
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Booze
Oh god. Wasn't it bad enough when I wandered into my local Rite Aid looking for a good deal on my favorite bourbon...only to find SODA! "Ok," I said to myself. "I'll just get a case of beer or something to drink while I watch the nightly news." I looked...and looked...then raced over to the first sales agent I could find. "Sir, where is the beer and wine," I asked? "What? You crazy! Don't you know you're in a drug store," he replied!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
(no interns, please)
Monday, July 21, 2008
Arriving in the District
