Yeah, you don't know me but I totally recognise you. From that time before. With all the booze? Now you remember.
I first read this blog years ago, before I moved back the the states. I used to read this blog, Princess Sparkle Pony, and Wonkette all the time. I imagined that DC would be worldly and international, and probably, maybe, I may or may not have assumed that I would attend a party at an embassy. At the time, I was squatting on a rice mat in my tiny Japanese apartment with my boyfriend, imagining what life would be like when we returned to the land of drive-thru bars, cheese as far as the eyes could see, and a real copy of the Washington Post. I was assuming there would be less bowing, more fried chicken, maybe some waffles. And I was right, and it was great. However, there also happened to be interns, the whole "young-professional" crowd, people wearing sneakers with pant-suits, motorcades, and the holocaust that is the DC Department of Motor Vehicles. Oh District of Columbia: you are an enigma wrapped in a mystery, stuffed into a used bag from Popeye's Fried Chicken.
So that's why I am participating in this public stoning, if you will, of what I don't like about our dear District. I mean, there's lots of stuff I do like, so it won't be just pages of moaning. It will be pages of entertaining moaning, the kind you kids like. I also am here, for those of you who don't remember the time from before with all the booze.
So with the obligatory intro out of the way, I'll be back soon.