I got about five hours of sleep last night since I had two early finals this morning. So I decided that I should take a nap when I got back from school.
I finished a Law & Order episode, closed my computer, turned off my lights.
Damn it, have to get my drycleaning (right across the street). Return about six minutes later.
Tell my roomate I'm taking a nap. He asks me when I want to be woken up (hardeeharhar, I am actually capable of waking up sometimes).
Lie down.
Some music would be nice. Turn on computer and go to Pandora.
God, Pandora is taking forever to load.
Ooh, haven't read some blogs in a few days (okay, 24 hours. Sue me). I can do that while they load.
This link looks interesting. So does this one. And that one.
Go through the links. Cute purses!
Okay, okay, focus Mallory Scott.
Symphonic, Classic Period should be appropriately soothing.
Back to bed.
Left side not comfortable.
Hmm, should I buy that purse at Loehmann's?
Neither is stomach.
Pro: Super cute and have wanted one like that for a while. Con: ridonkulously expensive.
Symphonic, Classic Period is not as soothing as I thought.
Are the people downstairs doing karaoke?
Ssshh, fine, I'll compromise and lay the cold spoons that I put in the fridge for this purpose over my eyes.
Cold! Cold Cold! Ow! Owowow! WTF. What kind of advice has Glamour been giving me re: cold spoons over eyes?! They burrrrrn!
Settle for rubbing soothingly over temples. Takes about two seconds as metal warms fairly quickly.
Fine. Napping is lame.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Thanksgiving Liveblog II
It is an unspoken rule that on holidays you are allowed to drink way earlier than is normally acceptable. Following this rule, I am currently sipping a Stella while wandering around the apartment wondering what the hell I should be doing right now.
We also drenched the turkey in beer before shoving it into the oven. Hey, the alcohol burns off there! And I have to say, the turkey does smell delicious. Am I supposed to baste it or something? Hmm...more beer to pour then.
We also drenched the turkey in beer before shoving it into the oven. Hey, the alcohol burns off there! And I have to say, the turkey does smell delicious. Am I supposed to baste it or something? Hmm...more beer to pour then.
Thanksgiving Liveblog I
I just violated a bird.
It was pretty horrifying, actually. I had to stick my hands in all sorts of forbidden places and pat skin and bones. Eeeeeew.
At least the first part of Operation Thanksgiving is done. We have another hour before the rest of it is a go.
Ugh, I don't think I will ever forget the feeling of skin and bone in my hands. This is why people join PETA.
It was pretty horrifying, actually. I had to stick my hands in all sorts of forbidden places and pat skin and bones. Eeeeeew.
At least the first part of Operation Thanksgiving is done. We have another hour before the rest of it is a go.
Ugh, I don't think I will ever forget the feeling of skin and bone in my hands. This is why people join PETA.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Monday, October 27, 2008
Marine Corps Marathon
Like every straight, twenty-somethin' girl in DC, I love me some military men. So when my friend--the Awesome Overachiever almost Jesus-like one-- mentioned that she was running the (in)famous Marine Corps Marathon I figured that this could be an interesting thing to see.
I would never in a bajillion years have guessed that this was an awesome spectator sport but my roommate and I had a blast cheering on our friend this Sunday. We headed first to the Mall to give A.O. some mid-race encouragement. Luckily, the weather was amazing and cooperative. We proudly cheered and screamed and held up our amazing signs.
The Mall had the advantage of allowing us to see AO twice and then gave us enough time to head up to Rosslyn and cheer her through the finish. Once again I was gobsmacked by the sheer masses of people that had gathered to cheer these people through the race. And it was definitely an infectious atmosphere with people all around you and the fun music and beautiful weather.
AO finished right around 3.5 hours--her goal, I believe. My roommate and I were able to keep track of her movements through the handy text-messaging tracker that we signed up for on the MCM website. Although, it told us about an hour after she finished that she had, indeed, made it. So, a little fail for the system at the end as it got overwhelmed.
A very fun and interesting way to spend your Sunday morning. Plus, boys in uniform being helpful. I am fully supportive of these types of things
I would never in a bajillion years have guessed that this was an awesome spectator sport but my roommate and I had a blast cheering on our friend this Sunday. We headed first to the Mall to give A.O. some mid-race encouragement. Luckily, the weather was amazing and cooperative. We proudly cheered and screamed and held up our amazing signs.
The Mall had the advantage of allowing us to see AO twice and then gave us enough time to head up to Rosslyn and cheer her through the finish. Once again I was gobsmacked by the sheer masses of people that had gathered to cheer these people through the race. And it was definitely an infectious atmosphere with people all around you and the fun music and beautiful weather.
AO finished right around 3.5 hours--her goal, I believe. My roommate and I were able to keep track of her movements through the handy text-messaging tracker that we signed up for on the MCM website. Although, it told us about an hour after she finished that she had, indeed, made it. So, a little fail for the system at the end as it got overwhelmed.
A very fun and interesting way to spend your Sunday morning. Plus, boys in uniform being helpful. I am fully supportive of these types of things
DC News Rant
Metro to Conduct Random Bag Inspections
I saw this and I wanted to scream a little: I see metal detectors and security lines in the future of metro. I get enough of that when I fly, thanks.
Here's my question: has an explosive ever been found on metro with intent to blow the trains up? I know that it's not a predictor for future behaviour but...really? Metro? I barely believe that they enforce the "no eating" rule anymore so how exactly is this going to work?
The inspections will take place when transit police determine that circumstances -- such as an elevated threat level -- warrant heightened vigilance. They will not be announced ahead of time.
I saw this and I wanted to scream a little: I see metal detectors and security lines in the future of metro. I get enough of that when I fly, thanks.
Here's my question: has an explosive ever been found on metro with intent to blow the trains up? I know that it's not a predictor for future behaviour but...really? Metro? I barely believe that they enforce the "no eating" rule anymore so how exactly is this going to work?
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Pumpkin Pickin'
I had a fab day! It was totally juvenile and wholesome and fun: I went to a pumpkin farm!
I, my friend from abroad, and two of her sorority sisters drove out to the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE (read: everything not DC, really) Maryland to the cutest little farm. It had fields and a silo and a barn. And was totally commercialized. There were tables for Kaplan colleges, some snowcone company, COSTCO--for heaven's sake-- and some bank. It was hilarious.
Anywho, there was a pony ride and some "Straw Mountain" and slides and water ducky races and--the best part of all--a MAIZE MAZE! So of course we had to do it all. I'm pretty sure all the Marylanders with their small children thought we were totally insane. It was awesome.
Except, hilariosity in the maze: we did the "Long Way" and the "Short Way" was a different maze in the same field. So we're wandering around this maze and have not a clue what we're doing. Now the paths in this maze are super narrow and the corn is bending over us and all that. So it's single file, Indian style. Anywho, we're wandering forever and we finally just start barreling through, "WTFery" abounding. And, somehow, somehow, we end up coming out of the "Short Way" entrance. God knows. Only we could have managed this.
After the maze, we are exhausted and kinda freezing (Fall has decided to hit--temps fell by about 20 degrees in one night) so we decided to go to the Barn BBQ or something. It was quaint, okay? I had the best fries ever. I mean, this includes Europe and Europe had awesome fries. These were simply amazing. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure the chicken nuggets were Perdue or Tyson's.
The piece de resistance: pumpkin picking. They had a real pumpkin patch. I picked my pumpkin from a vine. Sure, I had to basically wrench it off but it was awesome.
All in all, fun all over. And I am freakin' exhausted so I am not planning on waking up 'til 10:30 tomorrow.
I, my friend from abroad, and two of her sorority sisters drove out to the MIDDLE OF NOWHERE (read: everything not DC, really) Maryland to the cutest little farm. It had fields and a silo and a barn. And was totally commercialized. There were tables for Kaplan colleges, some snowcone company, COSTCO--for heaven's sake-- and some bank. It was hilarious.
Anywho, there was a pony ride and some "Straw Mountain" and slides and water ducky races and--the best part of all--a MAIZE MAZE! So of course we had to do it all. I'm pretty sure all the Marylanders with their small children thought we were totally insane. It was awesome.
Except, hilariosity in the maze: we did the "Long Way" and the "Short Way" was a different maze in the same field. So we're wandering around this maze and have not a clue what we're doing. Now the paths in this maze are super narrow and the corn is bending over us and all that. So it's single file, Indian style. Anywho, we're wandering forever and we finally just start barreling through, "WTFery" abounding. And, somehow, somehow, we end up coming out of the "Short Way" entrance. God knows. Only we could have managed this.
After the maze, we are exhausted and kinda freezing (Fall has decided to hit--temps fell by about 20 degrees in one night) so we decided to go to the Barn BBQ or something. It was quaint, okay? I had the best fries ever. I mean, this includes Europe and Europe had awesome fries. These were simply amazing. On the other hand, I'm pretty sure the chicken nuggets were Perdue or Tyson's.
The piece de resistance: pumpkin picking. They had a real pumpkin patch. I picked my pumpkin from a vine. Sure, I had to basically wrench it off but it was awesome.
All in all, fun all over. And I am freakin' exhausted so I am not planning on waking up 'til 10:30 tomorrow.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
On Reading
Sometimes I forget how much I love to read. I watch too much TV or have too much homework or drama in my life to remember how wonderful it feels to curl up with a good book and, basically, disappear for a day.
And sometimes I wander over to the other extreme where I just become obsessed. Because I will go to the National Book Festival, and finally get a Library of Congress card, and update my LibraryThing.
Guess which extreme I am at right now?
I really, really can't buy any books right now. I don't have the money. I don't have the time to read them. But I want to so. Badly. I've promised myself, however, that I must first read five of the unread books on my bookshelf. There are more than that, obviously.
I have this problem where I buy really interesting books because they were at the cutest little used bookstore and they sound all cute and literary. But, guess what, picking up something unknown is also scary. It's so easy to keep an eye out for your favorite authors or genres but starting an absolutely unknown book can be scary: what if you don't like it? What if it's stupid? What if you don't understand the fuss? No, it's better to stick to the fifth in a series or a romance novel (predictable to a fault).
Then there's this issue: I always want to talk about my books. But if I think about it too much then I think to myself "what right do I have to judge? What have I done that's comparable to getting a book published? Or, more basically, have I ever written a book?" No, is obviously the answer here. And then I feel unqualified to even talk about disliking a book: "well, it seemed a bit silly. No, I don't really know if it was the style or the syntax or the use of an obscure literary device and really, what's the difference? It just wasn't my thing."
I happen to have a minor fault from the very beginning: I don't really like "adult" books. You know, Oprah stuff. No, I like my Garth Nix and Ella Enchanted and Harry Potter. They're more fun. Adult books are pretty depressing. Seems to me someone always has to die or suffer some sort of loss to make it meaningful. No thanks--I read to escape not hear more about the real world.
Long story short: went to the national book festival. Got a poster and bag. Neil Gaiman is awesome.
And sometimes I wander over to the other extreme where I just become obsessed. Because I will go to the National Book Festival, and finally get a Library of Congress card, and update my LibraryThing.
Guess which extreme I am at right now?
I really, really can't buy any books right now. I don't have the money. I don't have the time to read them. But I want to so. Badly. I've promised myself, however, that I must first read five of the unread books on my bookshelf. There are more than that, obviously.
I have this problem where I buy really interesting books because they were at the cutest little used bookstore and they sound all cute and literary. But, guess what, picking up something unknown is also scary. It's so easy to keep an eye out for your favorite authors or genres but starting an absolutely unknown book can be scary: what if you don't like it? What if it's stupid? What if you don't understand the fuss? No, it's better to stick to the fifth in a series or a romance novel (predictable to a fault).
Then there's this issue: I always want to talk about my books. But if I think about it too much then I think to myself "what right do I have to judge? What have I done that's comparable to getting a book published? Or, more basically, have I ever written a book?" No, is obviously the answer here. And then I feel unqualified to even talk about disliking a book: "well, it seemed a bit silly. No, I don't really know if it was the style or the syntax or the use of an obscure literary device and really, what's the difference? It just wasn't my thing."
I happen to have a minor fault from the very beginning: I don't really like "adult" books. You know, Oprah stuff. No, I like my Garth Nix and Ella Enchanted and Harry Potter. They're more fun. Adult books are pretty depressing. Seems to me someone always has to die or suffer some sort of loss to make it meaningful. No thanks--I read to escape not hear more about the real world.
Long story short: went to the national book festival. Got a poster and bag. Neil Gaiman is awesome.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Thursday's Confessional
Secrets on Thursday:
This may not be an actual secret since most of my friends would agree if you asked them: I love, love, love children’s television. This goes past just the classic Disney movies, the retro Nickelodeon that it’s cool to like: PBS kids, the Disney channel, I watch it all. And if you asked me what my absolute favorite shows are, they tend to be those for preschoolers: Arthur is AWESOME, and I don’t know if this one is still on but I loved PB&J on Playhouse Disney, and I will stop on Charlie and Lola if it’s on.
It’s not that I am incapable of watching “serious” television (although it’s still pretty silly overall): the West Wing, History Channel documentaries, all that. I just find children’s television somehow less…pretentious. I mean, okay, Spongebob is horrendous. But Arthur is hilarious. And Charlie and Lola has great voices. There’s something a little bit more genuine about these shows.
Arthur:
PB&J:
Charlie and Lola:
Oh, and this is a true secret: I LOVE the Barbie movies. They are my crappy day, comfort movies.
Alrighty, spill your Thursday secret.
This may not be an actual secret since most of my friends would agree if you asked them: I love, love, love children’s television. This goes past just the classic Disney movies, the retro Nickelodeon that it’s cool to like: PBS kids, the Disney channel, I watch it all. And if you asked me what my absolute favorite shows are, they tend to be those for preschoolers: Arthur is AWESOME, and I don’t know if this one is still on but I loved PB&J on Playhouse Disney, and I will stop on Charlie and Lola if it’s on.
It’s not that I am incapable of watching “serious” television (although it’s still pretty silly overall): the West Wing, History Channel documentaries, all that. I just find children’s television somehow less…pretentious. I mean, okay, Spongebob is horrendous. But Arthur is hilarious. And Charlie and Lola has great voices. There’s something a little bit more genuine about these shows.
Arthur:
PB&J:
Charlie and Lola:
Oh, and this is a true secret: I LOVE the Barbie movies. They are my crappy day, comfort movies.
Alrighty, spill your Thursday secret.
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Friday, August 8, 2008
Blue! Blue like the sky!
It is actually nice outside! Cool, almost crisp. I wore jeans--yay, casual Friday--and may actually walk part of the ways home.
Incidentally, this is perfect sipping drinks on a patio with your best friends weather. However, since the going outage is scheduled for tomorrow night, I will be sitting at home with my dirty laundry, baking biscotti, and watching the opening ceremonies. Because I am just that cool.
Well, I may make a gin and tonic.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Incidentally, this is perfect sipping drinks on a patio with your best friends weather. However, since the going outage is scheduled for tomorrow night, I will be sitting at home with my dirty laundry, baking biscotti, and watching the opening ceremonies. Because I am just that cool.
Well, I may make a gin and tonic.
Have a great weekend everyone!
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
A nation may be run on it's stomach, but here in Amerrrrica! we just need our coffee
Y’all, DC is agog—agog, I tell you—with this whole “$2 drink deal” from Starbucks. We just cannot believe that they would pick us for something this amazing. For heaven’s sake, it’s the price of a regular, “[sm/t]all” coffee!
And it has hit our intarwebs:
http://blog.georgetownvoice.com/2008/08/05/starbucks-same-day-discounts-come-to-the-district/
http://anything-pj.blogspot.com/
http://blog.urbanbohemian.com/2008/08/06/3962/
I went to Starbucks myself yesterday morning and I thought I was this super special winner for getting a receipt about the $2 drink. Then I went back to my office, checked my email, and there was the newsletter announcement (Yes, I am signed up for Starbucks emails, why the judgmental face?). Way to crush my self-esteem SB.
If I weren’t so concerned about my dwindling bank account—and the school year hasn’t even started!—and my growing tummy fat, you betcha I would be lined up twice a day for something deliciously caffeinated.
And it has hit our intarwebs:
http://blog.georgetownvoice.com/2008/08/05/starbucks-same-day-discounts-come-to-the-district/
http://anything-pj.blogspot.com/
http://blog.urbanbohemian.com/2008/08/06/3962/
I went to Starbucks myself yesterday morning and I thought I was this super special winner for getting a receipt about the $2 drink. Then I went back to my office, checked my email, and there was the newsletter announcement (Yes, I am signed up for Starbucks emails, why the judgmental face?). Way to crush my self-esteem SB.
If I weren’t so concerned about my dwindling bank account—and the school year hasn’t even started!—and my growing tummy fat, you betcha I would be lined up twice a day for something deliciously caffeinated.
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Count the Times I Write "Awesome" in this Entry!
I spent Sunday lugging my way up to Georgia Ave. Thrift Store and came away with an awesome trench dress for the more awesome price of $9.95 !
Not so awesome: wearing it in this weather. It’s a heavier fabric and I knew I had made a mistake the moment I stepped outside this morning. It only took me a bus ride to get to the point where I felt I desperately needed a shower.
On the other hand: I look AWESOME. It’s this tan/khaki color that would have been great with my red peep-toe pumps (I embrace my tall-ness and wear ridiculous shoes despite being almost 5’ 11”) but I didn’t think that would have been the most professional of combinations. So I settled with my cute new brown, oxford-esque pumps. And I still look pretty damn good. I feel very classic, very Mad Men. Hand me some red lipstick, a dab of Chanel, and I’m ready to take over the world!
I digress. DC is freakin’ disgusting right now. I vehemently do not approve. It is weather that makes me want to turn up the air-conditioning and sit inside watching TV and IMing. Weight is gained in this type of weather!
I can only pray that it rains and we get some relief. I hate humidity. I am such a spoiled desert girl that I feel like I have no reason to tolerate it.
Not so awesome: wearing it in this weather. It’s a heavier fabric and I knew I had made a mistake the moment I stepped outside this morning. It only took me a bus ride to get to the point where I felt I desperately needed a shower.
On the other hand: I look AWESOME. It’s this tan/khaki color that would have been great with my red peep-toe pumps (I embrace my tall-ness and wear ridiculous shoes despite being almost 5’ 11”) but I didn’t think that would have been the most professional of combinations. So I settled with my cute new brown, oxford-esque pumps. And I still look pretty damn good. I feel very classic, very Mad Men. Hand me some red lipstick, a dab of Chanel, and I’m ready to take over the world!
I digress. DC is freakin’ disgusting right now. I vehemently do not approve. It is weather that makes me want to turn up the air-conditioning and sit inside watching TV and IMing. Weight is gained in this type of weather!
I can only pray that it rains and we get some relief. I hate humidity. I am such a spoiled desert girl that I feel like I have no reason to tolerate it.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
I work everyday like it's Friday!
Since I'm incapable of working this week--seriously, kiddos, it's been pretty bad on the production front--I've been reading blogs. More specifically, I've become enamored with the entire concept of BlogHer which just happened: parties! Free drinks! Free food! Geeking out like whoa!
However, while reading through the attendents'/panelists' blogs I have come to a realization: bloggers are scary people, yo. Like, crazy intense about the whole writing thing. And they're good at the whole writing thing.
And then I think about my own blogging skills. I keep a f-locked Livejournal full of rants about song lyrics or the weather or just random "ohmigod, I'm so so so sorry for not updating! My life is so crazy (not really but as an intern I have to keep up the appearance of trying to keep of the appearance of being busy all the time)!!!"
I have several defunct blogs that all seemed like good ideas at the time and then I realized that I really don't have the patience to take pictures of all my lunches or make awesome outfits on polyvore. They're still floating around out there--full of lameness, trust me.
Anywho, brava BlogHer bloggers! You're dedication to the craft is inspiring and frightening. Not enough to make me stop reading though. And not enough to make me try to make my LJ more meaningful.
However, while reading through the attendents'/panelists' blogs I have come to a realization: bloggers are scary people, yo. Like, crazy intense about the whole writing thing. And they're good at the whole writing thing.
And then I think about my own blogging skills. I keep a f-locked Livejournal full of rants about song lyrics or the weather or just random "ohmigod, I'm so so so sorry for not updating! My life is so crazy (not really but as an intern I have to keep up the appearance of trying to keep of the appearance of being busy all the time)!!!"
I have several defunct blogs that all seemed like good ideas at the time and then I realized that I really don't have the patience to take pictures of all my lunches or make awesome outfits on polyvore. They're still floating around out there--full of lameness, trust me.
Anywho, brava BlogHer bloggers! You're dedication to the craft is inspiring and frightening. Not enough to make me stop reading though. And not enough to make me try to make my LJ more meaningful.
Coincidental that interns aspire to excell and despise Excel? I think not.
If you have ever opened your email to see a strangely targeted mass mailing, inviting you to “check out a new website by ACME company” or “attend an event sponsored by ACME company” and “oooh, would you mind terribly putting up this itty-bitty banner ad?” You can thank an intern.
Coming up with thousands of names for the all important “Points of Contact” Excel spreadsheet is a staple of the intern experience. It doesn’t matter if you are interning in Congress or Cinemax: Excel will rule your life. Sure, bragging can be done about the “awesome committee meeting you sat in on” (note: the importance of the meeting is in direct proportion to the level of staff attending. E.g.: super important people attend super important meetings. Stupid/pointless meetings are attended by the interns. Who will crowd the meeting because they were “important enough to be handed the awesome responsibility of trying to stay awake while someone discusses the finer points of krill regulation”) or “the famous director’s second assistant that you spotted in the halls of your place of work” or even “that crazy person that you had to deal with over the phone/bully away from the front desk.” But it all comes down to the Excel spreadsheet.
Excel, is in fact, the most horrible Microsoft application to ever be invented. It is also, one of the most useful. Excel spreadsheets lack any intuitive functions. Oh, you want to add up all the numbers from this column? Well, either highlight the column—top to bottom! TOP to BOTTOM dammit!—and then press the strange sigma sign up here. Or perhaps enter the super easy formula consisting of quotations marks, ampersands, and squiggly marks. With excessive Excel expericene, this can possibly become second-nature. That is also a large portion of your brain that will never recover.
However, like the internship itself, “Proficient in Excel” looks quite impressive on a resume. Which is why we do it.
Coming up with thousands of names for the all important “Points of Contact” Excel spreadsheet is a staple of the intern experience. It doesn’t matter if you are interning in Congress or Cinemax: Excel will rule your life. Sure, bragging can be done about the “awesome committee meeting you sat in on” (note: the importance of the meeting is in direct proportion to the level of staff attending. E.g.: super important people attend super important meetings. Stupid/pointless meetings are attended by the interns. Who will crowd the meeting because they were “important enough to be handed the awesome responsibility of trying to stay awake while someone discusses the finer points of krill regulation”) or “the famous director’s second assistant that you spotted in the halls of your place of work” or even “that crazy person that you had to deal with over the phone/bully away from the front desk.” But it all comes down to the Excel spreadsheet.
Excel, is in fact, the most horrible Microsoft application to ever be invented. It is also, one of the most useful. Excel spreadsheets lack any intuitive functions. Oh, you want to add up all the numbers from this column? Well, either highlight the column—top to bottom! TOP to BOTTOM dammit!—and then press the strange sigma sign up here. Or perhaps enter the super easy formula consisting of quotations marks, ampersands, and squiggly marks. With excessive Excel expericene, this can possibly become second-nature. That is also a large portion of your brain that will never recover.
However, like the internship itself, “Proficient in Excel” looks quite impressive on a resume. Which is why we do it.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
How many signs do you need?! Press the silver button to open the door!
As an intern in DC this summer, I basically waive any rights I have to making fun of tourists and other interns. Combined with the fact that I am a college student at a university in town does not exactly make me any more qualified to mock.
However, how can I resist the ohmygodwhatthefuckareyouthinking?! when I see such ripe examples of mocking around me?
Yesterday, I changed my routine of walking home most of the ways, to actually taking the circulator all the way home because of the EXTREME heat that DC has been experiencing for the past few days (tangential life story: I hate humidity. I have spent a good amount of time living in a desert and humidity is not my thing. I break out and get bitten by bugs and have wacky hair. Humidity is possibly why most sensible people would not build a city on a swamp. Oh but wait…). And yesterday, I saw some choice examples of “How to be an obvious tourist to Our Nation’s Capital.”
Three people were involved in this posse: two women and one man. On the bus they had the typical touristy things going on: constant and loud conversation about bus fares, frequent checking of maps, trying to make friends with other people.
All three wore fanny packs. I kid you not. Usually, one person has enough sense to not do so and, even with their Smithsonian bags, they still donned these bastions of bad fashion.
Their destination was obvious: the White House. How could I tell? Was it perhaps the counting down of streets: “ooh 14th street there, we must be getting close!”? Was it the overexcited jabbing at the STOP button? Or was it, perhaps, the desperate, panicked squeals that were heard when the bus OMG passed 16th street by half a block (to stop at it’s proper stop)?
As they attempted to disembark—I say attempted because they did the classic thinking-the-doors-are-going-to-magically-open-despite-the-fact-that-there-are-signs-and-arrows-EVERYwhere-clearly-telling-people-to-just-press-the-stupid-silver-button-to-open-the-doors—I had the chance to observe them in more detail.
First came a woman: she should definitely have invested in some sort of support system. Bellybuttons and breasts should never be so intimately introduced. Not to mention the classic sneakers, sport-socks pulled halfway up the leg, and shorts combo.
The second woman, despite her fanny pack proclivity, was not so bad. An all white ensemble could be construed as savvy considering the sweltering weather we’ve got going on here. I could have done without the knowledge that somewhere out there someone is painting giant flowers on Crocs.
It was the man accompanying them that really had my eyes rolling. You know those “airbrushed” t-shirts? Usually they have some sort of puppy or dolphin motif with italicized script about the location such a t-shirt was purchased. This particular item first boldly proclaimed the United We Stand. Followed by the image of an eagle and a patriotic flag. Underneath: These Colors Don’t Fade or Bleed or whatever. Trucker hat is implied.
A special shout out to the douche who breathed loudly and disgustingly on me in passive-aggressive protest against the world’s most annoying middle schoolers and couldn’t be bother to move his humongous long legs aside so I had to obstacle course my way out of my seat to the exit. It’s experiences like that, that clearly endear me to all humanity.
However, how can I resist the ohmygodwhatthefuckareyouthinking?! when I see such ripe examples of mocking around me?
Yesterday, I changed my routine of walking home most of the ways, to actually taking the circulator all the way home because of the EXTREME heat that DC has been experiencing for the past few days (tangential life story: I hate humidity. I have spent a good amount of time living in a desert and humidity is not my thing. I break out and get bitten by bugs and have wacky hair. Humidity is possibly why most sensible people would not build a city on a swamp. Oh but wait…). And yesterday, I saw some choice examples of “How to be an obvious tourist to Our Nation’s Capital.”
Three people were involved in this posse: two women and one man. On the bus they had the typical touristy things going on: constant and loud conversation about bus fares, frequent checking of maps, trying to make friends with other people.
All three wore fanny packs. I kid you not. Usually, one person has enough sense to not do so and, even with their Smithsonian bags, they still donned these bastions of bad fashion.
Their destination was obvious: the White House. How could I tell? Was it perhaps the counting down of streets: “ooh 14th street there, we must be getting close!”? Was it the overexcited jabbing at the STOP button? Or was it, perhaps, the desperate, panicked squeals that were heard when the bus OMG passed 16th street by half a block (to stop at it’s proper stop)?
As they attempted to disembark—I say attempted because they did the classic thinking-the-doors-are-going-to-magically-open-despite-the-fact-that-there-are-signs-and-arrows-EVERYwhere-clearly-telling-people-to-just-press-the-stupid-silver-button-to-open-the-doors—I had the chance to observe them in more detail.
First came a woman: she should definitely have invested in some sort of support system. Bellybuttons and breasts should never be so intimately introduced. Not to mention the classic sneakers, sport-socks pulled halfway up the leg, and shorts combo.
The second woman, despite her fanny pack proclivity, was not so bad. An all white ensemble could be construed as savvy considering the sweltering weather we’ve got going on here. I could have done without the knowledge that somewhere out there someone is painting giant flowers on Crocs.
It was the man accompanying them that really had my eyes rolling. You know those “airbrushed” t-shirts? Usually they have some sort of puppy or dolphin motif with italicized script about the location such a t-shirt was purchased. This particular item first boldly proclaimed the United We Stand. Followed by the image of an eagle and a patriotic flag. Underneath: These Colors Don’t Fade or Bleed or whatever. Trucker hat is implied.
A special shout out to the douche who breathed loudly and disgustingly on me in passive-aggressive protest against the world’s most annoying middle schoolers and couldn’t be bother to move his humongous long legs aside so I had to obstacle course my way out of my seat to the exit. It’s experiences like that, that clearly endear me to all humanity.
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