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.

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.

Starbucks...gaybucks...and the importance of "pretty"

Omg...the Dupont Circle Starbucks.  How East Coast is this?  Totally.

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.  

Now, I thought that surely Starbucks would be the great equalizer between Cali and the District.  It really is the McDonald's of coffee shops.  But, I didn't think about the difference in Baristas.  This occurred to me the other day when I stopped at my usual Starbucks on Dupont Circle (Ok, yes...because more cute, cruisy gay boys go there than the one on N Street...so sue me).  I ordered my venti iced coffee and the very cute, somewhat metrosex barista asked me, "so...do you think Stevens is gonna get reelected?"  I had the same look on my face as that South Carolinian beauty queen from Youtube. 

 After staring at him blankly for about 30 seconds, I noticed he was checking out my chest.  Nice!  But then, I realized he was looking at my University of Alaska Fairbanks t-shirt (Go Nanooks!).  Those of you who know me know that I love Alaska.

Well, finally the gerbil running on a wheel that was my brain on a Saturday afternoon kicked in and I started having a discussion with him at the counter about whether the drilling in the Alaska Wildlife Refuge was going affect Senator Ted Stevens electability more than his budget and appropriations scandal.  After this mental workout of a conversation at the Starbucks counter in the District, I asked the cute barista on my way out, "are you FROM Alaska?"  "No," he replied," I'm just a politico.  Wow, no kidding.

Cut to the Starbucks (or "gaybucks") on Santa Monica Boulevard...

Now, for those of you haven't patronized WeHo's crown jewel of Starbucks, here are some of its key elements:

- Located across the street from the largest gym in WeHo, the original Pinkberry, next door to Trader Joes and one of those bougie versions of Jamba Juice...oh, and how can I forget that it's also across the street from LASC, a department store for gay men.

- The setup: there is a literal runway through the middle of the shop and every table is set up in a circular fashion so that everyone can see EVERYONE else from anywhere in the store.

- Tyra Banks did an episode of America's Next Top Model there....I think we're done now.

So, Gaybucks is a unique store in and of itself, but my conversations with the baristas there didn't really involve senators...or...really much of any substance at all.  My gerbil wheel brain didn't get too stressed out there.  Like every other member of the food service industry in Hollywood, just about everyone at the WeHo gaybucks was trying to get into the industry, which meant that most of them were:

pretty

You see, as much as I appreciated my cute metrosex boy talking to me about Alaskan senators, it distracted me from the important part: that he was pretty.  There's something so much more efficient about talking about what's on your Tivo when you're flirting with baristas at gaybucks.  The gerbil doesn't have to run very hard on the wheel and all you really have to do is whip out a smile and dump your change in the tip jar, and you're like totally BFF with each other.

So, as is the case with all of these posts so far...I love the daily intellectual substance of even the smallest transactions in the District, but then I always miss the total fluff of WeHo and my dedication to that ever-important concept: pretty.

Next time...I hope to start busting out the digital camera to capture some precious scenes and moments from the beltway.

Flex Time

West Side girls kvetching after lunch.

Ok...so my office is just BUZZING because our Executive Director decided earlier this summer that we would officially go to "flex time" during the summer.  I seriously had to ask a colleague in the office what this "flex time" business was all about.  "Well," she exclaimed, "as long as you put your usual time in for the week, you can take Friday off if you want."  She was beaming.

I must have had a PRECIOUS look on my face as the crickets chirped in the background.

"Ok," I responded.  "That's....that's great."  What I realized at that moment was that the entire L.A. metro region...oh hell, all of Southern California...runs on flex time.  If you happen to be in, say, West Hollywood, just take a walk down Santa Monica Boulevard at around 2 in the afternoon  on a Tuesday.  People should be working, right?  Yea, well I guarantee that the Starbucks will be packed, random hot shirtless boys will be walking their dogs, hot girls will be kvetching about their "problems" over a late lunch at Hugo's and others will just be meandering from Pinkberry to Nordstrom looking for something to do.  Now, the real kicker is that all these people seem to own nice homes and cars.  

This is a typical day in SoCal.  Everyone seems flush with cash, yet they don't do much other than get tan.  This is why I draw so much entertainment out of our new flex time schedules at the office.  Taking a friday off in the summer makes me feel a little at home...and now a little naughty.  The annoying part is that now if you ask someone if they want to meet about a project on a friday, it's as though they've been waiting for that question all day.  "Well," they say, "that's my FLEX day," with a big smile on their face.  It's almost a little smug....as if we're all trying one-up each other over how to flex our schedules.  Wow.

Now, does this mean that SoCal is just really lazy? Or, is Washington just typical of other East Coast cities that are obsessed with the clock and products of the industrial era?  You decide.

Hipsters vs. Tools

 Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1) - Cite This Source - Share This

tool     Audio Help   [tool] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation,

–noun

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.

Oh...and this is just precious:

American Heritage Dictionary - Cite This Source - Share This

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.

So...why I still look through the magazine, Details, I don't know.  I think I'm still mourning the loss of the far more metrosex magazine, Cargo, and turn the pages hoping for similar content...but I digress. 

Recently, they featured a several page spread called the "LA Style Crisis."

http://men.style.com/details/blogs/thegadabout/2008/07/the-la-style-cr.html 

Now, never in a MILLION years did I think I would actually MISS the usual set of hipsters who roam freely in the wilds of the Sunset Strip in WeHo.  Yea...you know who I'm talking about.  It's that Hollywood guy who:

- buys the vintage prada t-shirts (and by vintage...I mean 1988) from Crossroads on Santa Monica Blvd.

- eats at the Griddle Cafe every weekend with his other disaffected buddies

- "plays" guitar (and by play, I mean...gives a REALLY bad name to indie rock)

- takes pictures of himself looking dower to upload to facebook while waiting for his food at the Griddle Cafe

- has a trust fund (oh yea...you know most of them do)

Anyway, they have an entire spread of THAT guy in this article in Details.  The strange part is that now that I'm away, I miss hipsters.  Why?!  I miss their heinous fashions.  I miss their purposely greasy hair.  I even miss those goddam ed hardy bejeweled hats!  They have a place in Hollywood.  When I lived in WeHo, I did everything I could to avoid their natural habitat, but now it just doesn't feel the same.  As I thumbed through looking at the pictures, I couldn't help but notice all the little West Hollywood street signs for Sunset Blvd. behind them  There's something wonderfully simple about how WeHo deals with its hipsters.  They're too "over" the gay scene to even walk down Santa Monica Blvd and so obsessed with being perpetually ironic that they can only really keep to themselves.  All the while, the residents of WeHo reap the benefits of their contributions to the tax base.  Really, its a win-win.

Hipster natural habitat.  Best time to spot this urban creature: weekends on the sidewalk after 11 a.m.

While I was looking at our hipsters in Hollywood, it got me thinking about how every city has its own version of this urban creature.  Here in the District: tools.  Tools here in DC are, most certainly, a lot of the young staffers and interns on capitol hill who run into you, drop every name they gathered that day in their card rolodex, and ask tedious resume-driven questions of you until they can fit you into their mental hierarchy...all the while being completely unaware of how socially overbearing they are (and the fact that there was a reason JCrew had to put that particularly colored tie on sale).   And the worst part is that most of them have a smug sensibility that, for the right person, is SOOOO ready to take advantage of.  Yea.  Total tools.

So the real question is: will I hate DC's tools just as much as Hollywood's hipsters?  Or, has the move and reflection on hipsterness and toolness changed my outlook and made me more tolerant?

Nahhhhh.....

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!

Ok, so I've come to terms with the fact that you have to go to actual liquor stores for all distilled and malt beverages in this town.  At least they're not state run.  Oh wait...this isn't even a state. Well..."district-run."  But then came the real doozie: they don't sell booze on Sunday!  Now, I come from the land of eternal sunshine, and there are times when I MOST look forward to sitting on a patio outside, shortly after gay brunch (say...2 p.m.), to begin drinking my lazy Sunday afternoon away with friends under a palm tree.  Well, here it's all about the planning.  In fact...all my friends tell me that the real key is to stock up in Delaware.  Delaware?!  Isn't that where all the banks are incorporated because of their shady corporation laws.  Well...if they sell cheap booze to homos on their way back from Rehoboth Beach...god bless 'em!

This is a Delaware Chicken

For more information on this, please visit: http://www.albc-usa.org/cpl/delaware.html

So...this is an open call to all the other Cali expats out there: It's time to open a BevMo in the District *queue angels voices*.  Yes...you know what I'm referring to...that wonderful costco of liquor open until nearly midnight EVERY night.  It's chock full of amazing deals...endless stock...and they have that wonderful/horrible reward card program that gives you MONEY back as a reward for buying MORE liquor.

For those of you unfamiliar with the wonders of BevMo...let me set the stage.  Imagine a Friday night.  You have a big party coming up on Saturday.  So,  you cruise down to the Bevmo and after walking in...it's gay man after gay man roaming the aisles loading gallons of liquor into their carts...because like you...they also have a party planned for the weekend.  You might run into that boy you slept with last weekend after the sidewalk sale at Fubar roaming through one of 3 "Vodka" aisles.  You might see a brawl in the wine section over who gets the last bottle of the on-sale Moet.  But you're determined...you persevere.  Then, you get to register...whip out your Bevmo club card...watch the price fall even more and you're on your way...

Or...if you're too lazy for all that, then you can just go to Bevmo.com...choose everything online...and they have your entire order ready in a box for pick-up in an hour!

But, until this civic-minded business finds its way into the District, I'll have to get good about planning. 

(no interns, please)

This is the first in a new series of posts I will call, "You know you've moved to Washington when..."

Let's talk Evites.  After living in SoCal for 8 years, I ended up getting quite a few regular evites.  This is an example of a typical evite from someone living in Hollywood/WeHo:

"Yadda yadda yadda...cute boys....yadda yadda yadda...booze...yadda yadda yadda...cute boys....yadda yadda yadda...potential for appearance by C to D-list celeb....yadda yadda yadda....booze...bring other cute boys.....leave your scripts and headshots at home, people!"

Seriously...this is practically a template on Evite in Los Angeles.  Now, I received one of my first Evites the other day from a crew of friends here in the district.  It went something like this

""Yadda yadda yadda...capitol hill brownstone....yadda yadda yadda...booze...yadda yadda yadda...bring umbrella....yadda yadda yadda...potential for appearance by sexy foreign correspondents....yadda yadda yadda....booze...forget about work for a few hours.....(no interns, please)"

As many of you know, I am constantly trying to convince people that Washington and Los Angeles have a number of similarities.  First of all, the liquor flows freely.  Though, I must admit that the group of IRS attorneys hanging out at J.R.'s taking shots of Jim Bean on a Sunday afternoon would probably drink the boys at the Abbey under the table with their apple martinis...but that's not the important part....

Interns in this town are like production assistants in Hollywood.  The entire city runs on their 18-21 year-old blood sweat and tears, but everyone has to feign at least some kind of contempt for them.  "Leave your scripts and headshots at home, people!' really means "unless you're cute and easy," for an Angeleno.  And, "(no interns, please)" means "unless you're cute and easy" for a Washingtonian. The big difference, you see, is the use of the parentheses.  That's because Washington is a shirt and tie town, right?

Totally.

Arriving in the District

Well, kids...we made it.  Here we are in our new semi-autonomous U.S. territory home known as the District of Columbia.  I decided that setting up a blog would be the best way to update all of you on our new adventure out here in the East.

It's been a whirlwind since I arrived.  We were insanely fortunate that one of my friends here in the District recently met the new owner of the brownstone building next door to him, and wouldn't you know, needed tenants for the English basement around July 1.  He completely gutted and renovated the place and is in the process of putting in a new flagstone patio in the back.  Many of you would say that I pulled an "Erik" on this one.  I flew in...crashed with my friend Paul...checked the place out on June 30 and fell in love .  This is the building.  I'll have more pictures soon, but we love it.  Soooo DC:

Mike and the cat (Nemo) arrived on my first day of work.  I owe Mike A LOT for transporting our poor new feline thousands of miles across the country.  Apparently, the drugs only kept him asleep for a fraction of the trip, but he seems settled in now.  For those of you who don't know, we ended up having to rescue a cat two weeks before we moved to DC because he was close to being sent to the pound and put to sleep.  Although it was a little more work than we were planning on, we love the new member of our family.  This is about as much parenting as Mike and I can handle right now.

Surprisingly, the weather has been quite good the last few weeks....for DC.  Only in the last few days has the heat index reached 103 or so.  Otherwise, it's been relatively dry.  My job is phenomenal.  Every day I come to work, I'm amazed that things came together as well as they did.  I can already tell it's going to offer me a lot of unique challenges after school, but I love (most) of the staff here at NCAI.  It should be a lot of fun.  And, we're hoping to buy our own building an open an "Embassy of Native Nations" in the next year or two, which would rock.

Some observations to leave you with:

- The entire city of Washington runs.  Mike and I have never felt so lazy in our lives.  It's as though some natural urge overwhelms people after work and they just have to dash out their door for a several mile jog.  Gotta get that gym membership soon.

- Nobody knows what the Soup is on E!  This disturbs me.

- Thus far, I have counted 12 different "official" police forces while I've been in town.  There's the Capitol police, Supreme Court secret service, National Parks police, DC police, Metro police, and the list goes on.  The ones that scare me are the ex-navy seal looking ones with no markings on their black cars that just hang around the Hilton on Connecticut ave.  I just stare straight ahead and walk briskly.

- Mosquitoes.  They're these bizarre and heinous agents of the devil that land on your skin and bite you to suck your blood.  If they ever were in California, I think we killed them all ages ago...probably because of some foreign foliage or something.

- Fireflies: drive Nemo crazy.  Thank god they're just about dead.  He was spending every night at our living room window jumping up to try and bat at them.

- Kalorama: our new neighborhood.  So, we back up to the French and Chinese embassies in DC's most affluent and one of its oldest neighborhoods.  As Mike was coming back home the other night, some random Spanish national was apprehended by another one of these strange police forces.  As one long-time District resident told me at the bar: "the entire city could be in chaos and burning...and Kalorama would just go on as if nothing was wrong in the world."  Ok...we admit it...we moved from one insanely bougie neighborhood to another.  We can't help ourselves.  We're gay.

So...the whole point of this blog is to highlight mostly funny observations about moving here from WeHo...check back often...I hope you enjoy.