Archive for August, 2005

You should NOT be here now.

Back in the day, before Internet jukeboxes, you knew the kinda tunes you’d hear in a bar. You know what was in its jukebox and could rest assured you’d hear tunes to your liking while you’re drinking. I miss those days.

I miss them much since I’m sitting in the Big Hunt right now and someone has a serious love of seriously depressing country music tunes. These songs of wives and dogs leaving men, and them missing the dogs are killing my mood. I’m not talking Johnny Cash here, but some current swill who is polluting my ears. Please folks, if you wanna hear country, go to Remington’s.

Comcast Sucks!

That’s it. That does it. After six months of crap signal, Comcast is out. Everyone’s comments on their RCN experience helped, but its today’s struggle with Cloak and Dagger that put me over the top. yep

The classic 80’s movie is coming in like poo, with the signal dying every five-ten minutes, right at the good parts. I wanna see little Davey Osborne outsmart the bad guys & the tear jerk ending where Jack Flack turns out to be Dad better not get Comcasted!

To help ya, Comcasted = unwatchable pixilation like on Morris here.

Mommy, why are people annoying?

Dear guy in the parking lot of Giant,

Oh, what’s that? You think you’re “all that”? Well, you certainly look like the kind of guy who would use that phrase, especially to describe himself. Well, let me tell you something – you’re definitely not all that. You’re nowhere near even “that.” You’re annoying for blocking the lane, and for blasting your techno with the bass turned up, and for giving me a look like I was crazy when I gestured that you were actually the crazy one. Parking lots are for parking, yes, but in the little spaces with the lines. Maybe you should remember that the next time you’re out in public.

Oh, and, yeah, you sure looked stylin’ in your Honda Civic.

Calling All Music Geeks…

Kinski from Seattle are making a rare DC appearance tonight at the Warehouse Next Door.

Let there be quiet-loud-quiet rock!

[Review to follow]

Giant Rat

It’s not every day you walk by a window office and see a giant rat staring at you from the sidewalk. Intrigued, I abandoned my window-less cave and headed for 13th St. Sure enough, there was a line of protestors chanting and screaming in unison about the poor standards of Tri-Con Construction.

These did not look like carpenters. They looked like a bunch of people that were assembled willy-nilly off the street and offered a chance to protest-for-food.

But apparently that didn’t matter to the Mid-Atlantic Regional Council of Carpenters, they just needed people to draw attention to their cause by raising a ruckus on 13th St.

I have to ask, though, where exactly does one find a giant inflatible rat? I mean, surely DC is the obvious choice for such a location, what with all our lobbyists, lawyers, and politicians, but who thought this up? Where can you rent a giant rat? I totally want to park one in front of a certain apartment complex…

Caught out at Stead

How much fun did I have at Screen on Stead? How fun was watching Pricilla, Queen of the Desert with a field full of men? So much fun that Metro Weekly has a photo of my antics on the first page of Stead shots.

Yeah, this definitely ups my gay percentage a few notches.

A Close Encounter

As I was waiting for the bus to go home yesterday, a tall man asked me if the 66 had passed yet.

I should have known instantly from his eyes, but I was tired.

So when he struck up a conversation with me, I half-heartedly responded. He was wearing a lightweight Indian-style shirt and joked that he dressed like that to freak out tourists into thinking he was a terrorist. Whatever. I yawned. Checked my text messages. He’s quite handsome, I thought, but a little too intense.

And then, it finally kicked in.

Chasing Aaron Pointer

There’s an infielder at AAA New Orleans chasing after a nearly 45 year old record; his name is Rick Short, and he’s pushing the .400 mark. In 1961, Aaron Pointer hit .401 for the season, the last minor-leaguer to do it. As of yesterday, Rick Short is hitting .389, but he’s got several games left against the hapless Iowa Cubs, which could put him over the top. There’s a great article on Rick in yesterday’s Post. Part of me wants to let him stay in New Orleans to finish the season and break the 44 year drought, but part of me thinks we ought to send down Cristian Guzman for a while and give Rick a chance.

Have we no civility?

I nearly broached the first rule of the Metro this morning: I nearly spoke to the passengers around me. I came in later than usual this morning, hopping the 7 toward the Pentagon after construction began on my bathroom renovation. A four car blue line train arrived shortly after I did, and it was off into the city. That’s when I saw her. A lovely woman in her late twenties, about four or five months pregnant. Standing in the aisle. With four well-dressed gentlemen seated.

People, it may be August, there may be fewer people in town than usual, and Congress is out of session, hell even the President’s on vacation, but there is NO EXCUSE for a gentleman to be seated on the Metro when a pregnant woman is standing. None. The four of you in the aisle seats just around yourself should be ashamed of yourselves. Worse still, when a lady got up, ostensibly to allow the pregnant woman to be seated, another bozo in a suit took the vacant seat.

What the fuck, people. I mean, I really want to know, what the fuck? Can you tell me what the fuck?

But no, I stayed silent, shooting disapproving glares to all the suits in the aisle seats. I hope karma gave you food poisoning, you discourteous fops.

Again with the mall dangers

White Flint Mall was evacuated today after firefighters had to be called in to investigate a gas leak. A crew working in the parking lot accidentally hit a gas line, and the fumes got into a mall through the air system. Okay, that’s it. I’m never going to the mall again.

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