…..DC has found a way to make these seemingly innocuous buses a terrible, terrible idea. Namely: dedicated bus lanes on 7th and 9th streets. The crews are out there right now, measuring things, looking confused and blocking traffic in surprisingly inventive ways. It’s a little early to tell exactly how it’s going to shape up, but as far as I can tell the rightmost lane southbound on 9th and northbound on 7th will be dedicated to buses…..
I have also been a victim of muggings twice here in Dupont Circle. The first time, I was completely naive, just like many people I know. I was innocently walking down the sidewalk at around 11:00 p.m., when my assailant jumped out from an alley next to the sidewalk, tackled me to the ground, and told me he was going to “Blow me away” if I didn’t give him my wallet. Somehow I managed to instinctively kick him off of me and run away without him hurting me. I called the police, who were not helpful in finding and arresting him.
If you do go to the exhibition, please take a moment to enjoy the exquisite potted gardenia tree just outside the entrance, which you can smell from twenty feet away. As I was leaving I noticed an old man stopping to admire one of the flowers; he inspired six other museum goers to pause and start chatting with each other about the rapturous smell, and then the exhibit. It could have been a moment out of a Winslow Homer painting.
If you don’t know already, Restaurant Week is August 1st through the 7th. Lunch is $20.05 and Dinner is $30.05. Below is THE LIST of participating D.C. Restaurant Week restaurants and what they’ll be offering on their menus that week. I’m calling around to each and every one of , and as I get information from them I’ll fill in this list. Usually, I’m not done until the week before, because many restaurants don’t finalize their menus until then.
Do not take a shower while the wedding is still in progress, or even worse, answer the door in a towel. Even if the estate has twelve bathrooms, you are playing Russian roulette. Never know who will come a knocking. Do not let your intoxicated friend attempt to find the car; one just may end up disheveled and in an abandoned soccer field two miles away.
…Cyclists have suffered from a virtual dictatorship of cars on America’s roadways for the better part of the last 50 years, and we’re the ones deserving of your hatred? Please. We’re forced to the fringes of America’s transportation network, given slivers of road to navigate on (which are then take over by double-parked cars anyhow), pitted against tons and tons of steel and horsepower driven by people too lazy to rely on public transportation themselves…
I only caught bits and pieces of Live 8 Saturday but what I saw greatly disappointed me. It seemed simple and superficial. Knowledge is power?
Baby bird rescue Conversations with Mud This woman, a newbie amateur downhill mountain bike racer/musician, found a baby bird (click on her photo link) on the sidewalk. The story begins:
Monday night I was going to the liquor store to get empty boxes for the big move, and walked past what looked like a big piece of bubblegum on the pavement. It turns out to be a live baby bird, a nestling who was no more than two days old and was no bigger than a small Post-It note. He looked like this. He was amazing. He was featherless and I could see his internal organs. He couldn’t open his eyes yet, but he grabbed my heart strings just the same.
Sorry for relinquishing the war against workplace boredom, but I think that (A) I am getting too many hits on the blog (200 yesterday), and I’m worried about my anonymity; and (B) fun as it is to torture you all with intimate details regarding my urethra and squabbles with insane girlfriends, I feel guilty about writing so much about Le Divorcé …
Of all the smooth R&B love song singers, no one could sing a ballad quite like Luther. I mean, the man’s voice and style was so unique that when he did a remake, he made the song his own. Folks didn’t want to hear the original …They wanted to hear LUTHER.
“Finding a parking space” actually becomes an appointment on your calendar. (E.g.. 7:00-8:00pm Gym, 8:30-9:00pm – find a parking space, 9:00-10:30pm -Dinner reservations.) When Washington National Airport is and will always be “WASHINGTON NATIONAL”, not “Reagan National”.
I have always been a firm believer in self-care practices such as pedicures, massage, and journal writing. With the house to myself this weekend, I decided to indulge in some serious “Diva Therapy” with the help of some delightful products that I purchased from the LUSH store in Georgetown last week.
Photo: Monday night from the Lincoln Memorial.
It’s a Boy!! … we think Jessaisms The writer of this lively blog — the story of a marine zoologist in her mid 20’s with the heart of an 8 year old the mind of a 76 year old and the sex drive of a 32 year old — reports that her dolphin has given birth. Post includes incredible photos of the birth.
I really must say that there is nothing more exhilerating than watching the calf learn and begin to understand even within the first few hours.
Conflicted DC Sleeps Alone Tonight This post is about family and July 4th, but with themes that probably ring very true for many here in DC. It begins like this:
I haven’t lived at home or near my parents for 12 years. The difference between our lifestyles are superficial and spiritual, yet the building blocks are the same. This gaping hole creates conflict in my heart and my intestines everytime I get ready for my twice a year visits.
One of my favorite Fourth of July activities here on Tennessee Avenue is the reading of the Declaration of Independence which we do with the neighbors every year. The hostess parcels out the lines so almost everyone gets to read. We read the last paragraph together and then everyone applauds. It’s fun and seems patriotic in a healthy way, though lately I’ve been wondering.
As we walked into Halsey Field House in our civilian clothes, we were warmly greeted by the upperclassman. “Welcome to the Naval Academy” they said with smiles on their faces as they pointed us to our respective registration/check in tables. I remember the smiles. It seemed a strange juxtaposition to the banner hung on the edge of the Lejuene Hall which read: “Welcome Class of 89: Attrition is our mission. Class of 1987.”
Two by four guys Grateful Dating When words aren’t enough.
Two by four (2×4) guys are the ones you have to hit over the head with a 2×4 to get their attention. They are the ones floating along, totally clueless. They can’t tell when you are flirting with them.
Here Comes the Flood Cocoricamo The mid-week storm that hit DC Metro inspired this well-turned piece.
…but as they did blow through the riverstreet, each car birthed rollicking waves that stretched wide and rocked the vehicles parked alongside the street. we’d all gasp in unison and watch as an entire row of cars lined up like metallic candies would rise with the waves, rock to one side, and eventually be dropped again, each time at a slightly more acute angle — and in the end, all (at least partially) “parked” on the sidewalks.
There’s something really sad about waving goodbye to a fabulous bra or a particularly effective pair of panties. Maybe boys feel the same way about their boxers. I know a few who certainly held on to theirs right up to the bitter end…
The best thing about local television in the 1970s and 1980s was the commercials for local businesses. They had zero production values and the “talent” was usually the person that owned the particular business concern. No matter what part of the country you grew up in there is some local TV commercial wedged somewhere in your brain.
The only excitement I have witnessed was when I first moved here and some guy had his kid held hostage up the street. Well that and me trying to solve this week’s mystery of who the hell is knocking on my window at 2am.
Construction sites tie up traffic, even if there’s no actual construction happening. I guess people expect that the construction workers are laying in wait behind the orange-and-white barrels, ready to begin jackhammering at a moment’s notice.
The only way to successfully navigate DuPont Circle is to pretend that you can’t see other cars, pedestrians, or traffic lights.
Walking around in a funk last night stuck in my “what is going on with my life” quandary, I realized that walking around can actually remind me of things in the world outside of my head. I saw a dog in his “last throes”, as Cheney would say, and was brought to tears …
I really am beginning to think that all females have the “marriage” gene. Just like with your eye color, it might be dominant orrecessive; except that the marriage gene is dominant, and evolution is slowly starting to kill out all recessive non-marriage genes. I have long prided myself on being independent and strong, capable of being alone and not bitching, assuaging any fears I have with false hopes of “the perfect man is out there for me.” Yet, in the prescense of the white dress, I flip out. I am all consumed. WTF mate.
Never ever thought in a million years we’d miss Ohio but let me tell you something…We sure do! There is just something wholesome and endearing about nice midwestern folk that is impossible to find anywhere else. Maybe it’s the innocence of suburbia. Maybe its some unnatural high from all of those wheat crops but whatever it is…we miss it. We miss the strip malls and traffic lights, the town squares and small town familiarity …
My first impressions of the city: awesome! DC people walk around in suits and skirts with sneakers and then put their heels and dress shoes on when they get to work. It’s funny to see them. The drivers do not stop for pedestrians in crosswalks. And people are fanatical about “stand on the right, walk on the left” on escalators. It’s very very very humid, but very beautiful. Really a great city. Nice houses, brick and old-looking. Brick crosswalks. Three people said good morning to me on the street today.
First of all, we are not New York. Thank God. I will never live in New York because all its young, overeducated, snappy people can talk about is the superiority of their particular slice of burrough, just to justify making them feel better about paying $1600 a month for a shitty studio over an Indian restaurant.
One thing I never realized before I came here was the fact that Washington DC is in a state of drunken stupor, especially on the weekends. This town may be conservative (in its DRESS), but it is very liberal when it comes to its alcohol.
DC Blogs editor’s note: For further reading on the topic of drinking in DC please see these blogs: Cadillac Brewski, as reported by the Butterfly Network. Fantastic Weekend. And I didn’t even hit up a single bar. I hung out in Arlington, at a friend’s place, and learned the BEST drinking game. Granted, it’s a good pregamming type of game, I ended up playing it all night long. And subsequently got absolutely hammered. From DC Divas, this report: I absolutely LOVE getting drunk before the night has even officially begun! So we get to the bar and are feeling rowdy b/c tequila does that to us. We immediately are befriended by two cute military guys who start buying us more drinks. Now, B. can hold her liquor a hell of a lot better than I can so she was good and drunk but I was trashed. Uncle Bertie’s Bag of Goodies writes, in part: I have drank way too much in the last three days and really need to detox. Housemate stories House of the Dumb This is a new blog by a woman who writes about “house, housemates, mates, dates and ultimately fates.” Scathing humor. The writer also urges readers not to take anything she writes seriously. The story begins this way:
Our house is a nice townshouse-esque place in the residential (read: relatively crime-free) section of Washington DC. Three levels, great location, right near the bus stop … everything about it is great … save one thing. Well, actually, four. Those precious four things constitute the idea behind this blog. The house is infested with idiots, and I’m on the verge of going absolutely nuts.
I made my boss cry today My View from the Jeep A director of operations at a nonprofit, this blogger gave notice yesterday. He writes about how he successfully turned the organization around and how upset his boss was with the news of his planned departure. But life brings changes, and this 10-year DC residents decides to go to Chicago. There are a lot of reasons for the change, and here’s one of them:
Having lived in DC for the last 10 years, I have found my life to be stagnate and lacking much interest. I was asked recently what my hobbies are, and I didn’t have an answer. So it’s time to invigorate myself. And my gut tells me that Chicago is the place to do it.
Smithsonian Folklife Festival disappointment d.c. native This is a new blog by a twenty-something who “returns to take on her hometown after college.”
Went to the Smithsonian Folklife Festival on the Mall yesterday with a bunch of friends. What a disappointment. The lack of creativity is overwhelming. At its inaugural five ears ago, the Smithsonian focused on the ENTIRE Silk Road—which was so amazing and interesting, and kind of felt like Epcot Center …
Also noted: Jennifer writes about this guy on the Metro who is apparently unaware that eating, drinking, and using noisy electronics is against the law. SO. I get on the metro, and this man sits in front of me and takes out his PORTABLE DVD player, and proceeds to watch a damn movie. Then. as the train continues down the tracks toward Silver Spring, this man takes out a big gulp from 7-eleven. I’m like… can a police officer PLEASE come and get this man. Rare non-sarcastic praise from DCSOB regarding the new Giant in Columbia Heights. … just got a lot of cool stuff I can’t easily get elsewhere in the neighborhood, like Guarana soda, Jamaican beef patties in bulk, pre-prepared individually-packaged flan and frozen Paneer. The usual funny collection in the latest edition of DCeptette by The DCeiver. So at the office, there’s a box where we’ve been collecting foodstuffs for So Others Might Eat. But, when you walk by the box, the signage thereon says: “Please leave donations for / SO OTHERS MIGHT EAT IN THIS BOX.” A rant about personal responsibility that’s worth reading, by Jus Primae Noctis.
The general standoffishness of people in a metro area. The DC area just isn’t very friendly. I haven’t met many Germans (and those I have I couldn’t communicate with very well), but the Americans living here are very friendly. Perhaps because they were newcomers not that long ago, or because we’re all in a foreign country
Throughout the concert, the band members were drinking beers and taking the occasional whisky shot, which I don’t mind – I’m all for the rock star style and having a fun, relaxed time and all. However, if I’m paying money to see you perform, you damn well better be able to perform. So, by the end of the concert the guitar player was trashed.
This case has repercussions throughout the nation where thousands of residents face eminent domain for private development. The repercussions here in D.C. include the new baseball stadium, which stands to be built where private businesses currently exist.
(The DCist take with helpful links on this topic.)
I was at a country club with D and we were surrounded by seersucker pants (I saw one MAN in a delicate shade of pink – I had no idea pink seersucker existed)
How strange it is that these Westerners ignore such dire warnings such as this and instead of preparing themselves they make things like they were before, as if in doing so they will not have to face the consequences of their inactions in the future.