Remember the good old days when I wrote my first post? By "good old days," I of course mean Thursday, but whatever. It was a happier time. That was the day I found out I'd be moving to Silver Spring after over a month of frantic searching for housing. I was *this* close to being homeless.
Here's what I wrote:
"Right now I'm living in tony Cathedral Heights. In a few days, unless something goes horribly wrong, I'll be moving to the Silver Spring/Takoma Park area. This move means I will depend on both the subway and bussing to get from my house to my friends and my job. I'm sure that will create enough fodder for a million DC-hating blogs."
The good old days indeed. I was so young, so naive. Since DC is Opposite Land where the evil (i.e. politicians, lobbyists) are rewarded and the good (me) are punished, I really should have expected something truly and heartbreakingly awful to happen.
Less than 24 hours before I was to pick-up my U-Haul and start my wonderful new life as a Maryland commuter, I got a phone call from my new roomies...who subsequently pulled backsies and left me ***this*** close to homelessness. That's four more asterisks.
Why the backsies? Who knows. They claimed that a current tenant's brother needed a place to live and bros (broes?) before handshake promises, as the old saying goes. That story is almost certainly bullshit. I guess one of the roommates didn't like me after I hung out with them and their friends on Friday. I admit I was a little awkward. My fault since it's obviously easy to be social and fit right in with 20 people that you've never met before. Piece of cake. And...24 HOURS NOTICE. DOUBLE-EW-TEE-EFF.
If it matters, these immature vagina-faces are from the University of Maryland. By not living with them, I probably saved myself from getting tear-gassed after a Terrapin victory over Duke.
(On a related note, syndicated sports columnist and poker commentator Norman Chad has this gimmick where whoever asks him the best/funniest question wins $1.25. Here's what won yesterday:
"Q. A University of Maryland basketball player recently was declared academically ineligible. Isn't that like falling out of a boat and missing the water?"
Of course UMD is somehow rated higher than American, so this proves nothing.)
Anyways, instead of having a total nervous breakdown, I got my act together. Tomorrow, I'm moving to Bethesda, MD. Right next door to the Naval Hospital and 495. My lifelong dream of being a Maryland commuter begins tomorrow. And I still depend on Metro (which hasn't fucked up since I got the keys to this blog...small miracle), so expect Metro rants in the near-future.
And, just so I'm making myself perfectly clear: Fuck you, Maryland kids.
1.30.2006
A penny saved is a soldier dead...
The Washington Times, which I only read to find content suitable for this website, has published an interesting story on ABC News anchor Bob Woodruff. I assume everyone knows that he and his cameraman were injured by a roadside bomb in Iraq. He and the cameraman are now in Germany and in serious-but-stable condition.
The Times story, which is via the AP and therefore lacking the crazed wingnuttery one would expect from the Moonie Times, has this interesting lil' nugget:
"A hospital official said body armor likely saved the journalist's life."
I remember reading something about body armor...something recently. Hmmmm.
Why, here it is! From Woodruff's own ABC News! Posted two days ago!
"Sen. Clinton Says Lack of Body Armor is 'Unforgivable'"
"Clinton pointed to President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney as the culprits. Some have said that supplying Marines and soldiers with armor that covers their sides is too expensive — costing about $260 for each person...
The lack of adequate armor has been a hot topic during the war in Iraq. In 2004, a soldier confronted Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld during a Q&A session in Iraq about the issue. The question turned out to be planted by a journalist. Recently, Howard Dean, former presidential candidate and president of the Democratic National Committee, called for Rumsfeld to resign.
The Defense Department and Army said that they needed more time to acquire the armor and that publicly discussing issues of body armor aided the enemy — claims that Clinton dismissed as out of hand."
It's good to know that, with this post, the Secretary of Defense accuses me of aiding "the enemy." Sweet.
Anyways: Body armor! Good enough for journalists! Too expensive for American troops!
I wonder what costs more, the $260-per-soldier cost of body armor or thousands of military funerals?
The Times story, which is via the AP and therefore lacking the crazed wingnuttery one would expect from the Moonie Times, has this interesting lil' nugget:
"A hospital official said body armor likely saved the journalist's life."
I remember reading something about body armor...something recently. Hmmmm.
Why, here it is! From Woodruff's own ABC News! Posted two days ago!
"Sen. Clinton Says Lack of Body Armor is 'Unforgivable'"
"Clinton pointed to President Bush and Vice President Dick Cheney as the culprits. Some have said that supplying Marines and soldiers with armor that covers their sides is too expensive — costing about $260 for each person...
The lack of adequate armor has been a hot topic during the war in Iraq. In 2004, a soldier confronted Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld during a Q&A session in Iraq about the issue. The question turned out to be planted by a journalist. Recently, Howard Dean, former presidential candidate and president of the Democratic National Committee, called for Rumsfeld to resign.
The Defense Department and Army said that they needed more time to acquire the armor and that publicly discussing issues of body armor aided the enemy — claims that Clinton dismissed as out of hand."
It's good to know that, with this post, the Secretary of Defense accuses me of aiding "the enemy." Sweet.
Anyways: Body armor! Good enough for journalists! Too expensive for American troops!
I wonder what costs more, the $260-per-soldier cost of body armor or thousands of military funerals?
1.27.2006
Never forget that Virginia borders Kentucky
I try to be a sport when it comes to guns. The second amendment is no more outdated than any other aspect of the Bill of Rights and you have a right to defend yourself and blah, blah, blah.
But you have to be pretty stupid to shoot your gun off inside Virginia's General Assembly Building. That's what Delegate Jack Reid did. Obviously, Reid is Republican.
"If you asked me if I ever put a finger on a trigger when I wasn't at the shooting range, I'd say no," Reid said at a news conference after his apology. "Whether that's what happened, I can't tell you. I really don't know."
As the proud owner of a Rifle Shooting Merit Badge (TROOP 50, REPRESENT), I can tell you exactly what happened, Delegate Reid. You fucked up.
And why in God's name would a legislator need a gun inside a government building? Is Reid stubbornly libertarian? Is he psycho? Are "stubbornly libertarian" and "psycho" interchangeable? What's the effing deal here?
"Richmond is a dangerous place," said Del. Charles W. Carrico Sr. (R-Grayson), a former state trooper who spent a year as an undercover police officer in Richmond and carries his gun in the lawmakers' office building. "I carry to protect myself and my family."
Republicans can be so stupid. Protect yourself from what? The only guy shooting guns in your office building is this douchebag. If someone mugs a legislator inside a government building, I will give all of my loyal readers $50. I feel pretty confident making this offer since, as far as I (and Google) can tell, that's never happened before.
The only thing being mugged in that building are the rights of gay Virginians. *swish*
Of course, this story would be funnier than a bucket of monkeys if it weren't juxtaposed with a day care shooting and a 13-year-old dying playing Russian Roulette.
Yup, guns sure are awesome. Yeee-haw.
But you have to be pretty stupid to shoot your gun off inside Virginia's General Assembly Building. That's what Delegate Jack Reid did. Obviously, Reid is Republican.
"If you asked me if I ever put a finger on a trigger when I wasn't at the shooting range, I'd say no," Reid said at a news conference after his apology. "Whether that's what happened, I can't tell you. I really don't know."
As the proud owner of a Rifle Shooting Merit Badge (TROOP 50, REPRESENT), I can tell you exactly what happened, Delegate Reid. You fucked up.
And why in God's name would a legislator need a gun inside a government building? Is Reid stubbornly libertarian? Is he psycho? Are "stubbornly libertarian" and "psycho" interchangeable? What's the effing deal here?
"Richmond is a dangerous place," said Del. Charles W. Carrico Sr. (R-Grayson), a former state trooper who spent a year as an undercover police officer in Richmond and carries his gun in the lawmakers' office building. "I carry to protect myself and my family."
Republicans can be so stupid. Protect yourself from what? The only guy shooting guns in your office building is this douchebag. If someone mugs a legislator inside a government building, I will give all of my loyal readers $50. I feel pretty confident making this offer since, as far as I (and Google) can tell, that's never happened before.
The only thing being mugged in that building are the rights of gay Virginians. *swish*
Of course, this story would be funnier than a bucket of monkeys if it weren't juxtaposed with a day care shooting and a 13-year-old dying playing Russian Roulette.
Yup, guns sure are awesome. Yeee-haw.
1.26.2006
This introduction was supposed to be brief, but I kind of got carried away...
Hello! My name is Rusty and I'm here to replace the highly-esteemed and Seattle-bound James F.
My story goes something like this:
-Go to school in DC to pursue politics.
-Immediately abandon political dreams to avoid dealing with ladder-climbing jackasses.
-Write a column in the American University student news paper.
-Graduate and get an entry-level job.
-Create a crappy and unpopular blog. (How unpopular you ask? A reader once had this to say about me: "You have no respect for the dead. I doubt the announcement of your death will even reach a paper, let alone the hearts of anyone else. Fuck you.")
-Win an arbitrarily decided essay contest.
A true recipe for success!
Right now I'm living in tony Cathedral Heights. In a few days, unless something goes horribly wrong, I'll be moving to the Silver Spring/Takoma Park area. This move means I will depend on both the subway and bussing to get from my house to my friends and my job. I'm sure that will create enough fodder for a million DC-hating blogs.
The entry-level job is located in the beautiful Golden Triangle area of Dupont Circle. Recently, the creator of the "Golden Triangle Business Improvement District" blew her brains out. I refuse to accept that this is a coincidence.
My job title is "legal assistant." My business cards say "administrative assistant." Needless to say, no one ever sees my business cards. My job consists of answering phones and running errands for the boss. Here's a typical day:
Boss: "Rusty, PDF this for me!"
Rusty: "Aye, aye, cap'n!"
And then I will PDF that document with such fervor and authority that the scanner won't even know what hit it.
Since people reading this are probably big fans of James, it's only fair that I point out some differences between the two of us:
1. James has a car. I do not. So, I'm in no position to criticize traffic. But, this will lead to the aforementioned increase in bitching over the Metro. And, it's DC. Everyone knows about the shitty traffic anyways.
2. James has a wife. I do not. In fact, I've been involuntarily single for far too long. This means that ripping into the terrible DC dating scene is fair game. (i.e. "Fuck you, Georgetown girls. You are not better than me and your collars look ridiculous.")
3. James is James. I am not James. James was awesome. I don't know if I am awesome or not. If I am not meeting your blogging standards, I apologize. Please don't hesitate to tell me so at the e-mail address whyihatedc@yahoo.com. Of course, I expect a little bit of leeway so I can get my bearings straight.
Ok, that's it. True DC-hating will begin shortly. I hope you accept me into your hearts, minds, and monitors. And remember, at the end of the day, we all hate this city. If you can't love me, surely we can still share the hate together.
My story goes something like this:
-Go to school in DC to pursue politics.
-Immediately abandon political dreams to avoid dealing with ladder-climbing jackasses.
-Write a column in the American University student news paper.
-Graduate and get an entry-level job.
-Create a crappy and unpopular blog. (How unpopular you ask? A reader once had this to say about me: "You have no respect for the dead. I doubt the announcement of your death will even reach a paper, let alone the hearts of anyone else. Fuck you.")
-Win an arbitrarily decided essay contest.
A true recipe for success!
Right now I'm living in tony Cathedral Heights. In a few days, unless something goes horribly wrong, I'll be moving to the Silver Spring/Takoma Park area. This move means I will depend on both the subway and bussing to get from my house to my friends and my job. I'm sure that will create enough fodder for a million DC-hating blogs.
The entry-level job is located in the beautiful Golden Triangle area of Dupont Circle. Recently, the creator of the "Golden Triangle Business Improvement District" blew her brains out. I refuse to accept that this is a coincidence.
My job title is "legal assistant." My business cards say "administrative assistant." Needless to say, no one ever sees my business cards. My job consists of answering phones and running errands for the boss. Here's a typical day:
Boss: "Rusty, PDF this for me!"
Rusty: "Aye, aye, cap'n!"
And then I will PDF that document with such fervor and authority that the scanner won't even know what hit it.
Since people reading this are probably big fans of James, it's only fair that I point out some differences between the two of us:
1. James has a car. I do not. So, I'm in no position to criticize traffic. But, this will lead to the aforementioned increase in bitching over the Metro. And, it's DC. Everyone knows about the shitty traffic anyways.
2. James has a wife. I do not. In fact, I've been involuntarily single for far too long. This means that ripping into the terrible DC dating scene is fair game. (i.e. "Fuck you, Georgetown girls. You are not better than me and your collars look ridiculous.")
3. James is James. I am not James. James was awesome. I don't know if I am awesome or not. If I am not meeting your blogging standards, I apologize. Please don't hesitate to tell me so at the e-mail address whyihatedc@yahoo.com. Of course, I expect a little bit of leeway so I can get my bearings straight.
Ok, that's it. True DC-hating will begin shortly. I hope you accept me into your hearts, minds, and monitors. And remember, at the end of the day, we all hate this city. If you can't love me, surely we can still share the hate together.
1.25.2006
Good night, Irene
This is it, people. Time for me to bow out. You won't have James F to kick around anymore.
First, thanks to everyone who participated in the essay contest; Spitfire Grill 4EVA! I'm getting ready to hand over the blog to my successor. But before I do, here's one more long-form post before I go. It's about my friend Michael Jantz.
Michael is coolest person I know. Not to slight my other friends, but noneayall can touch Michael. He's a musician who's been playing the local scene for a couple years now. He's already done some amazing things creatively; he's played sidewalks in Europe and opened for Paul Simon. I'm not going to bother trying to describe his music in depth, because I'm not good at that kind of thing; the best I can tell you is that he's apparently influenced by bluesy-folksy sounding type things. (This is why I'm not a music journalist.)
Michael's situation seemed to kind of parallel mine. He had actually made a pretty good name for himself on the local scene in Cleveland, and moved here so his girlfriend could attend the same graduate program as my wife. Actually, Michael may have had it worse than I did here; our apartment was crappy, but theirs was crappier. I had a mindless job but was making decent money, while Michael was having to work multiple side jobs to support his musical career. Plus, he had to struggle to get his name known all over again, and as you may know, we're not so good about supporting our local musicians. He would try to get a band together, but people would move away from D.C., as they often do. He would play local venues, but they would only pay him in free booze (which doesn't sound bad, but you'd rather get actual money).
Despite all that, Michael never seemed to be down about his situation. Michael just kept playing and kept plugging away, even though he basically had to start his career over from scratch. We would go to see him play once in a while, at Wonderland and Iota and DC Nine, and sometimes there would only be a handful of people there, but Michael gave us a great set. Also, these were basically the only times I felt cool while living here. (I would by him shots of whiskey after shows when I could, as thanks.)
I wish Washington would support local musicians better. It doesn't have any dominant college radio stations, which normally play up local talents, and the other stations are too corporate-driven to focus on the local scene. (Personally, I don't follow music closely enough to know what's good unless somebody plays it for me.) There was one exception: Z104 was running a local-music show on Sunday nights. In fact, they had just named Michael their "Z104 Artist to Watch in 2006..." riiiiiight before they got shut down to become a classical station two weeks ago. How's that for timing?
Michael was playing a hurricane relief effort gig at Iota last month, and I told him we would be leaving town soon. We talked a little bit about what we had done since coming to Washington, and I came to realize that D.C. really was as difficult for him as it was for me. Their first apartment was so small that he often had to write songs while sitting in the bathroom; a lot of the songs he wrote came out of the frustration of having to start over. We had more in common than I realized; just as I created this blog and rediscovered my love of writing out of my disdain for D.C., so had Michael created an album's worth of songs out of his less-than-ideal situation. (And he was also a lot better at keeping up a more positive front than I did... obviously.)
I love music because of the power it has over memory. I happen to be listening to "Feed the Tree" by Belly right now; every time I hear it, I'm transported back to the 10th grade (for some reason, it reminds me of chemistry class). Michael's music is going to be the same way for me; the songs he played over the past couple years are going to make it onto his next album, which is coming out in a few months. I can't wait to hear it, because I know that when I fire it up and play "Sierra" or "You" that it's going to transport me back to those times I listened to him play in D.C., and actually, for a change, felt kind of cool. Washingtonians may be too busy bankruping Angola and keeping the war machine turning and stranding the handicapped to care about local musicians. But I know Michael's going to do great things, and make a name for himself all over again.
The moral of the story: even out of misery, you can create something great. If you're completely frustrated with your situation, and you feel trapped and unappreciated, keep doing what you love, even if nobody around you cares or notices. I feel that both Michael and I are emerging victorious from tough situations. And that's a beautiful thing. We win; D.C. loses.
Frankly, my dear, suck on it.
(Woo-hoo, bookend! Oops... I just ruined it. Never mind.)
First, thanks to everyone who participated in the essay contest; Spitfire Grill 4EVA! I'm getting ready to hand over the blog to my successor. But before I do, here's one more long-form post before I go. It's about my friend Michael Jantz.
Michael is coolest person I know. Not to slight my other friends, but noneayall can touch Michael. He's a musician who's been playing the local scene for a couple years now. He's already done some amazing things creatively; he's played sidewalks in Europe and opened for Paul Simon. I'm not going to bother trying to describe his music in depth, because I'm not good at that kind of thing; the best I can tell you is that he's apparently influenced by bluesy-folksy sounding type things. (This is why I'm not a music journalist.)
Michael's situation seemed to kind of parallel mine. He had actually made a pretty good name for himself on the local scene in Cleveland, and moved here so his girlfriend could attend the same graduate program as my wife. Actually, Michael may have had it worse than I did here; our apartment was crappy, but theirs was crappier. I had a mindless job but was making decent money, while Michael was having to work multiple side jobs to support his musical career. Plus, he had to struggle to get his name known all over again, and as you may know, we're not so good about supporting our local musicians. He would try to get a band together, but people would move away from D.C., as they often do. He would play local venues, but they would only pay him in free booze (which doesn't sound bad, but you'd rather get actual money).
Despite all that, Michael never seemed to be down about his situation. Michael just kept playing and kept plugging away, even though he basically had to start his career over from scratch. We would go to see him play once in a while, at Wonderland and Iota and DC Nine, and sometimes there would only be a handful of people there, but Michael gave us a great set. Also, these were basically the only times I felt cool while living here. (I would by him shots of whiskey after shows when I could, as thanks.)
I wish Washington would support local musicians better. It doesn't have any dominant college radio stations, which normally play up local talents, and the other stations are too corporate-driven to focus on the local scene. (Personally, I don't follow music closely enough to know what's good unless somebody plays it for me.) There was one exception: Z104 was running a local-music show on Sunday nights. In fact, they had just named Michael their "Z104 Artist to Watch in 2006..." riiiiiight before they got shut down to become a classical station two weeks ago. How's that for timing?
Michael was playing a hurricane relief effort gig at Iota last month, and I told him we would be leaving town soon. We talked a little bit about what we had done since coming to Washington, and I came to realize that D.C. really was as difficult for him as it was for me. Their first apartment was so small that he often had to write songs while sitting in the bathroom; a lot of the songs he wrote came out of the frustration of having to start over. We had more in common than I realized; just as I created this blog and rediscovered my love of writing out of my disdain for D.C., so had Michael created an album's worth of songs out of his less-than-ideal situation. (And he was also a lot better at keeping up a more positive front than I did... obviously.)
I love music because of the power it has over memory. I happen to be listening to "Feed the Tree" by Belly right now; every time I hear it, I'm transported back to the 10th grade (for some reason, it reminds me of chemistry class). Michael's music is going to be the same way for me; the songs he played over the past couple years are going to make it onto his next album, which is coming out in a few months. I can't wait to hear it, because I know that when I fire it up and play "Sierra" or "You" that it's going to transport me back to those times I listened to him play in D.C., and actually, for a change, felt kind of cool. Washingtonians may be too busy bankruping Angola and keeping the war machine turning and stranding the handicapped to care about local musicians. But I know Michael's going to do great things, and make a name for himself all over again.
The moral of the story: even out of misery, you can create something great. If you're completely frustrated with your situation, and you feel trapped and unappreciated, keep doing what you love, even if nobody around you cares or notices. I feel that both Michael and I are emerging victorious from tough situations. And that's a beautiful thing. We win; D.C. loses.
Frankly, my dear, suck on it.
(Woo-hoo, bookend! Oops... I just ruined it. Never mind.)
1.20.2006
What a week I'm having
It went something like this.
Sunday. I was all set to fly to Seattle out of [Product-placed jelly-bean-loving president] National Airport, but when I got there, I learned the flight had been cancelled due to high winds. The agent booked me on a flight out of Dulles, and I had to high-tail it down there as quickly as possible in a cab. Naturally, they picked me out for a random security search. I raced to the gate and made it with minutes to spare. The rest of the day was filled with me driving around Seattle, getting lost several times, and checking out various apartments, and not really liking any of them, and just generally freaking out about the move, and all the money it was going to cost me.
Monday. Interview with Mister Softee. You may recall that I interviewed there last October, and didn't get it, despite not getting voted off the island (i.e. I made it through the entire day). Well, despite not having as much time to prepare for the day as before, it went really well. I again did not get voted off the island. In fact, I talked to seven different people in all, and was there from 9 a.m. until 6:30 p.m.
Monday night. Still kind of freaking out, but the interview process was actually a little calming. My fears reduced further when I went to Crave, a restaurant, and had an amazing meal. Crave is an example of what eating out in the big city is supposed to be like: fun, creative, quirky, different.
I did run into a road block getting back to the hotel, literally: some trees fell down on the highway, blocking the way for a good 30 minutes. I opened up my laptop to have something to do, and was surprised to see it find a wireless access point. I was in the middle of nowhere, but sure enough, there on the screen, it said: "SoundTransit." I checked my mirror, and, sure enough, sitting in traffic behind me was a public bus. Turns out they're running a pilot program that offers wireless Internet connections while riding the Seattle-to-Redmond express bus. Or, to put it in a way that more appropriately expresses my feelings on this subject,
HOLY SHIT! YOU CAN BROWSE THE INTERNET ON THE FUCKING BUS!
If there was ever an indicator that Seattle is the town for me: that's it. Wow.
Tuesday. Now it was time to really hit the streets and find an apartment. I checked one or two places that looked interesting, off listings I had seen on craigslist. There were some kind of blah, older apartments, and some tiny houses that were hard to get to.
And then... I found my new apartment. I knew as soon as I stepped inside. It has a view of Elliot Bay, and of Magnolia Hill. Completely new appliances, renovated, quiet, in a cute four-plex on the west side of Queen Anne (I know I sound like one of those realtors with the big hair right now, but bear with me).
The property manager curses like a sailor. Because he is one. He's a ship's captain, and easily the most honest, friendliest person I have ever dealt with on the rental front. And, really, he sold me when he told me that DirecTV plus NFL Sunday Ticket was included in the price of the rent. I think I may have started drooling a little bit.
Anyway, apartment lease accomplished. I flew back here Wednesday. As we landed at DCA, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, around me, pulled out their Blackberries. One guy started talking to his row-mate about how he thought the Patriot Act was the one thing keeping up safe from terrorists. Aaaand, I remembered why I want to leave so badly.
I get home, and the phone starts buzzing. It's Mister Softee... and they're making me an offer... and it's way better than the offer I had already accepted from another company. Holy crap... the salary is higher, there's a signing bonus (which is something I've always wanted, just to say I had gotten one), and they cover all relocation fees, which is substantial. Plus an unusual array of insane benefits. All my financial worries just disappeared in one fell swoop. It's like I just won the lottery.
But it's not just the money that has me literally jumping up and down today. Getting a job there, in my field, is nearly tantamount to getting into Harvard. It's a very difficult process, but once you're in... you're surrounded by smart, passionate people who work hard on interesting things every day. I'm going to be able to say that I helped ship the next version of Windows, which is kind of amazing. It's probably going to be a lot of work, but I'm ready.
I realized today that I was experiencing something I hadn't felt in a long time... I was actually excited about my future. I've gone from being stuck in a boring job and not living up to my potential, in an bland, oppressive city that I hate, to working in an interesting field (software security, e.g. anti-hacking) at the biggest software company in the world, in perhaps my favorite city ever.
Everything is coming up Milhouse.
So of course, with all that's been going on, I haven't made any headway in judging the essay contest entries. Hopefully I can work on that this weekend. Meanwhile, if you see a guy in a green-and-yellow Sonics hoodie skipping down the street with an odd smirk on his face, it might be me.
Sunday. I was all set to fly to Seattle out of [Product-placed jelly-bean-loving president] National Airport, but when I got there, I learned the flight had been cancelled due to high winds. The agent booked me on a flight out of Dulles, and I had to high-tail it down there as quickly as possible in a cab. Naturally, they picked me out for a random security search. I raced to the gate and made it with minutes to spare. The rest of the day was filled with me driving around Seattle, getting lost several times, and checking out various apartments, and not really liking any of them, and just generally freaking out about the move, and all the money it was going to cost me.
Monday. Interview with Mister Softee. You may recall that I interviewed there last October, and didn't get it, despite not getting voted off the island (i.e. I made it through the entire day). Well, despite not having as much time to prepare for the day as before, it went really well. I again did not get voted off the island. In fact, I talked to seven different people in all, and was there from 9 a.m. until 6:30 p.m.
Monday night. Still kind of freaking out, but the interview process was actually a little calming. My fears reduced further when I went to Crave, a restaurant, and had an amazing meal. Crave is an example of what eating out in the big city is supposed to be like: fun, creative, quirky, different.
I did run into a road block getting back to the hotel, literally: some trees fell down on the highway, blocking the way for a good 30 minutes. I opened up my laptop to have something to do, and was surprised to see it find a wireless access point. I was in the middle of nowhere, but sure enough, there on the screen, it said: "SoundTransit." I checked my mirror, and, sure enough, sitting in traffic behind me was a public bus. Turns out they're running a pilot program that offers wireless Internet connections while riding the Seattle-to-Redmond express bus. Or, to put it in a way that more appropriately expresses my feelings on this subject,
HOLY SHIT! YOU CAN BROWSE THE INTERNET ON THE FUCKING BUS!
If there was ever an indicator that Seattle is the town for me: that's it. Wow.
Tuesday. Now it was time to really hit the streets and find an apartment. I checked one or two places that looked interesting, off listings I had seen on craigslist. There were some kind of blah, older apartments, and some tiny houses that were hard to get to.
And then... I found my new apartment. I knew as soon as I stepped inside. It has a view of Elliot Bay, and of Magnolia Hill. Completely new appliances, renovated, quiet, in a cute four-plex on the west side of Queen Anne (I know I sound like one of those realtors with the big hair right now, but bear with me).
The property manager curses like a sailor. Because he is one. He's a ship's captain, and easily the most honest, friendliest person I have ever dealt with on the rental front. And, really, he sold me when he told me that DirecTV plus NFL Sunday Ticket was included in the price of the rent. I think I may have started drooling a little bit.
Anyway, apartment lease accomplished. I flew back here Wednesday. As we landed at DCA, everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, around me, pulled out their Blackberries. One guy started talking to his row-mate about how he thought the Patriot Act was the one thing keeping up safe from terrorists. Aaaand, I remembered why I want to leave so badly.
I get home, and the phone starts buzzing. It's Mister Softee... and they're making me an offer... and it's way better than the offer I had already accepted from another company. Holy crap... the salary is higher, there's a signing bonus (which is something I've always wanted, just to say I had gotten one), and they cover all relocation fees, which is substantial. Plus an unusual array of insane benefits. All my financial worries just disappeared in one fell swoop. It's like I just won the lottery.
But it's not just the money that has me literally jumping up and down today. Getting a job there, in my field, is nearly tantamount to getting into Harvard. It's a very difficult process, but once you're in... you're surrounded by smart, passionate people who work hard on interesting things every day. I'm going to be able to say that I helped ship the next version of Windows, which is kind of amazing. It's probably going to be a lot of work, but I'm ready.
I realized today that I was experiencing something I hadn't felt in a long time... I was actually excited about my future. I've gone from being stuck in a boring job and not living up to my potential, in an bland, oppressive city that I hate, to working in an interesting field (software security, e.g. anti-hacking) at the biggest software company in the world, in perhaps my favorite city ever.
Everything is coming up Milhouse.
So of course, with all that's been going on, I haven't made any headway in judging the essay contest entries. Hopefully I can work on that this weekend. Meanwhile, if you see a guy in a green-and-yellow Sonics hoodie skipping down the street with an odd smirk on his face, it might be me.
1.12.2006
Essay contest update!
I've gotten quite a goodly number. Maybe about... 12-ish. I haven't read any of them yet, because... you know... the laziness.
At any rate, you've got until Saturday to get them in, and then they're going with me to Seattle, as I scout out a new apartment (and this time, it will have adequate heat).
P.S. Yes, I heard about the x-ty straight days of rain in Seattle. Ha ha, it rains a lot there. I had no idea.
At any rate, you've got until Saturday to get them in, and then they're going with me to Seattle, as I scout out a new apartment (and this time, it will have adequate heat).
P.S. Yes, I heard about the x-ty straight days of rain in Seattle. Ha ha, it rains a lot there. I had no idea.
1.02.2006
Who Wants to be a Reviled Blogger?
Guess who's going to back to work? Oh that's right, James is. The coffee pot is set to brew at 7 a.m. The alarm clock is set for... wow, 6:30 a.m.
Hmmm. Farmers don't get up that early.
At any rate... I'm excited. And excited to be moving on in a few weeks. But... what of the beloved why.i.hate.dc? Surely I can't let it just languish in blogging purgatory (or "blogatory"). It needs to continue. It demands to survive. It doesn't feel pity. Or remorse. Or fear. And it ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT STOP, EVER. Until you are DEAD.
In summary, somebody's got to take this over from me. There are plenty of haters out there whose voices should, nay must, be heard. Sooo... are you thinking what I'm thinking?
ESSAY CONTEST!*
The only rule is: there are no rules!
Except for these rules:
THE RULES
1) Entries must be in my inbox by Saturday, January 14, at noon. So that I may read them while also watching football. Send here.
2) Bizarre pop culture references. Visual aids. Creative use of profanity. Fried baby panda recipes. It's all fair game. You can do it blog-post linking-to-things style, or a long-form essay, or whatever. Make me feel the hate, but also... the laughter.
3) You have to tell me a little about yourself... not your life story, just the basics. Include your contact info, so that I can hand over the blog if you win! Speaking of which:
WHAT YOU GET IF YOU WIN
This blog! Yay, exciting!
More importantly: an instant local audience for your writing. It took me a long time to build up an audience, and the lucky winner gets to reap the rewards. Literally ones of people will see your work, and perhaps prank call you. And who wouldn't want that? Someone with a modicum of business sense might even be able to make money off this thing. I have none, so I don't know.
So that's it. You guys know what I like: a keen eye for observation, and a sharp disdain for bullshit. Impress me the most, and I will pass the mic... to you. No fine print required.
(*-NOTE: What you were actually thinking may have varied.)
Hmmm. Farmers don't get up that early.
At any rate... I'm excited. And excited to be moving on in a few weeks. But... what of the beloved why.i.hate.dc? Surely I can't let it just languish in blogging purgatory (or "blogatory"). It needs to continue. It demands to survive. It doesn't feel pity. Or remorse. Or fear. And it ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT STOP, EVER. Until you are DEAD.
In summary, somebody's got to take this over from me. There are plenty of haters out there whose voices should, nay must, be heard. Sooo... are you thinking what I'm thinking?
ESSAY CONTEST!*
The only rule is: there are no rules!
Except for these rules:
THE RULES
1) Entries must be in my inbox by Saturday, January 14, at noon. So that I may read them while also watching football. Send here.
2) Bizarre pop culture references. Visual aids. Creative use of profanity. Fried baby panda recipes. It's all fair game. You can do it blog-post linking-to-things style, or a long-form essay, or whatever. Make me feel the hate, but also... the laughter.
3) You have to tell me a little about yourself... not your life story, just the basics. Include your contact info, so that I can hand over the blog if you win! Speaking of which:
WHAT YOU GET IF YOU WIN
This blog! Yay, exciting!
More importantly: an instant local audience for your writing. It took me a long time to build up an audience, and the lucky winner gets to reap the rewards. Literally ones of people will see your work, and perhaps prank call you. And who wouldn't want that? Someone with a modicum of business sense might even be able to make money off this thing. I have none, so I don't know.
So that's it. You guys know what I like: a keen eye for observation, and a sharp disdain for bullshit. Impress me the most, and I will pass the mic... to you. No fine print required.
(*-NOTE: What you were actually thinking may have varied.)
12.21.2005
It's a birthday/Xmas miracle
It was a high-degree of difficulty, but after a tough 2.5-month search I managed to land a job in another city. A company with a branch in Seattle extended me an offer Monday night. And that means...
I'M GETTING OUT! WEST COAST, BITCHES!
[If I had a picture of me doing that "west coast" finger-sign thingy, I would have put it here. You'll just have to visualize it.]
I can't believe I finally, really did it. I've been wearing my lucky two-logo-changes-ago Seattle SuperSonics jacket to celebrate. (As if on cue, they beat the Wizards right after I got the job offer.)
Now, there are a couple things you should know. First of all, they want me to work here for a few weeks before I move, so you're not completely rid of me yet. However, I'm likely to be super-busy, with work, moving chores, and also teaching myself the dope programming skillz my new job requires. So you won't hear too much from me, but I'll try to check in periodically.
Second of all... I'm sorry. I apologize. To everyone. I started blogging here in March 2003, right after the U.S. invaded Iraq, as a way to get out my frustrations. I figured it would just be me venting into empty cyberspace, but it wound up catching on, and eventually I became quasi-famous-for-D.C. (which, in the real world, thankfully translates to "not famous"). There are obviously a lot of people who live in the Washington area who really like it, and some of them even liked the blog despite that, but others were really pissed off, and that's perfectly understandishable. I basically sat at my computer and criticized, without really offering any solutions to the problems I had (in fact, that was the mission statement from post #1), and that's not an especially fair thing to do. Partially, I did it because I didn't feel like there was any way I could fix the problems I have seen, and I still don't. But I also was so focused on getting out that I didn't bother spending time on solutions.
If you're a like-minded individual, and you're in D.C. or thereabouts, and you don't like what you see... don't stop observing and criticizing where needed, but try to be more active than I was in changing things. We have a lot of smart and thoughtful people who live here, but I think that too often they let their ideas and their individuality get subsumed by the great gray mass that is Washington. One of the city's biggest problem is inertia; it's difficult, but we need more people be willing to speak up and rock the boat a little, rather than settling for the status quo.
(And don't expect me to start a "Why I Hate Seattle," because they've got that covered. The number one complaint appears to be traffic; after living here, that just sounds completely adorable.)
Today, in the spirit of Xmas, and at the request of a good lawyer friend whose club name is "Staci", I'm going to tell you about the things I will actually... really... well, maybe a little... miss about D.C., and thereabouts. The things I even.. dare I say... love about D.C. In the traditional James F/Nick Hornby-standard Top 5 List format.
5) George Washington basketball. A lot of my good memories are sports memories, which isn't unusual for me. I thought about putting baseball here, and all the fun times I had watching the Nats: the home opener, the time the game ended because the grounds crew couldn't pull the tarp out during a rain delay, the upper-deck bomb Barry Bonds hit in September. But who knows if the Nationals will even stick around? They probably will, but it's up in the air right now.
GW provided the absolute best sports memories, and also the best atmosphere for watching a game. It just feels like college basketball should. Unlike Maryland and Georgetown, who play in huge arenas, GW plays in a smallish, 4000-person on-campus gym. You're pretty much right on top of the action, no matter where you sit. The band is loud, the students are loud, and you even sometimes have GW alum Red Auerbach on hand as a spectator. How does it get more basketbally than that? Even better: the team is good, and better than those other local schools with the huge arenas, but it's still pretty easy to get tickets.
And luckily, the students didn't mind the slightly older fan sitting in their section, thanks to guest passes. This really paid off last December, when I was sitting in the student section wearing a goofy three-corner colonial hat (I like novelty headgear) at the MCI Center's BB&T Classic. I was selected to shoot some baskets for free plane tickets, and I did it, in front of 15,000 fans. I used the tickets for my San Francisco vacation last May. That's definitely going to be my best D.C. memory.
So, even though I did my graduate work at Georgia Tech, when Tech was playing GW in the tournament last year, I found myself rooting for GW. It's been fun watching them mature into a great team, and they've given me some great basketball memories.
4) I rediscovered my love for writing while living here. I loved working on the newspaper in college, and I did some freelance sports writing after that, but I just didn't wind up going into writing for a living. And I don't think I realized how much I missed it until I started blogging.
I promise that I didn't think that many people were going to read my stuff. I never had that much confidence in my writing, but having complete editorial freedom to write about any crazy thing I wanted wound up being more fun than I expected. Plus, I got a lot of great e-mail support letters. I didn't reply to all of them, but I did read them all, and they helped keep my confidence up and kept me writing.
I'm working on an article right now; in the end, I don't know if anyone will publish it, but all the support I've gotten gave me the confidence to get started and at least give it a shot. You never know... it could be the beginning of a great writing career for me. Who says nothing good comes out of hate?
(BTW, I owe a lot to the writing style of Seanbaby. If you liked my writing, you'll probably like his even better.)
3) My bike trail. Out the back of my apartment complex to the Custis trail; down the hill to Giant Statue of Teddy Roosevelt Island; follow the river, across from the monuments; around the airport to Four Mile Run trail; on the street briefly, for a tough uphill climb to the I-395 pedestrian ramp (I had a good Rocky moment the first time I made it up without stopping); through Shirlington; up the W&OD Trail, back to the Custis Trail. Seventeen miles, and I got my time down to 1:10 at one point. It was also where I did my best thinking.
2) My friends. They had to put up with all my complaining and general crankiness. It's always hard to move on and leave your friends behind, but I hope they'll keep in touch.
1) E Street Cinema. Sorry, friends, I'm not cheesy enough to put you at #1. E Street theater is definitely the best thing that happened to Washington while I was here. I'm a huge film buff, and one of my favorite big-city-dwelling activities has always been being able to see independent movies that aren't available in smaller cities.
But I found Washington to be sorely lacking in this regard, at first. We had some theaters that would show unusual things, but they simply weren't good places for watching movies. Visions near Dupont Circle was the worst offender; they would show some interesting things, but the screens were tiny and the theaters were narrow, making it like watching a movie being projected at the end of a long hallway. The sound was terrible, and sometimes obscured by construction outside. They had food, but it was bad. Often, they would show things on DVD, and there would inevitably be some disc skipping.
And then... E Street opened. And It Was Good. This wasn't some crappy theater with a tiny screen that just happened to show indie films; this was an underground movie palace. Literally underground, because there was not a whole lot of room for new construction where they put it, so they went subterranean. This creates some quirky Tetris-like theater configurations... but it gives the place personality, like Fenway Park. The screens are big, the sound is good, and they show some great films... more than once I wished Twinkie the Kid might sneak out of the White House and sidle down to E Street for some life lessons.
Plus, the neighborhood has picked up... all of a sudden Chinatown has become a hot spot. Granted, it's a little too corporate, but still, it's hard to think of any better place to do dinner and a movie.
So there you go. Now if you'll excuse me, it's been a long, hard slog finding a job, and I have some lazing around and football watching to do. Have a good Xmas, and remember to be good to each other.
(Jesus might be watching.)
I'M GETTING OUT! WEST COAST, BITCHES!
[If I had a picture of me doing that "west coast" finger-sign thingy, I would have put it here. You'll just have to visualize it.]
I can't believe I finally, really did it. I've been wearing my lucky two-logo-changes-ago Seattle SuperSonics jacket to celebrate. (As if on cue, they beat the Wizards right after I got the job offer.)
Now, there are a couple things you should know. First of all, they want me to work here for a few weeks before I move, so you're not completely rid of me yet. However, I'm likely to be super-busy, with work, moving chores, and also teaching myself the dope programming skillz my new job requires. So you won't hear too much from me, but I'll try to check in periodically.
Second of all... I'm sorry. I apologize. To everyone. I started blogging here in March 2003, right after the U.S. invaded Iraq, as a way to get out my frustrations. I figured it would just be me venting into empty cyberspace, but it wound up catching on, and eventually I became quasi-famous-for-D.C. (which, in the real world, thankfully translates to "not famous"). There are obviously a lot of people who live in the Washington area who really like it, and some of them even liked the blog despite that, but others were really pissed off, and that's perfectly understandishable. I basically sat at my computer and criticized, without really offering any solutions to the problems I had (in fact, that was the mission statement from post #1), and that's not an especially fair thing to do. Partially, I did it because I didn't feel like there was any way I could fix the problems I have seen, and I still don't. But I also was so focused on getting out that I didn't bother spending time on solutions.
If you're a like-minded individual, and you're in D.C. or thereabouts, and you don't like what you see... don't stop observing and criticizing where needed, but try to be more active than I was in changing things. We have a lot of smart and thoughtful people who live here, but I think that too often they let their ideas and their individuality get subsumed by the great gray mass that is Washington. One of the city's biggest problem is inertia; it's difficult, but we need more people be willing to speak up and rock the boat a little, rather than settling for the status quo.
(And don't expect me to start a "Why I Hate Seattle," because they've got that covered. The number one complaint appears to be traffic; after living here, that just sounds completely adorable.)
Today, in the spirit of Xmas, and at the request of a good lawyer friend whose club name is "Staci", I'm going to tell you about the things I will actually... really... well, maybe a little... miss about D.C., and thereabouts. The things I even.. dare I say... love about D.C. In the traditional James F/Nick Hornby-standard Top 5 List format.
5) George Washington basketball. A lot of my good memories are sports memories, which isn't unusual for me. I thought about putting baseball here, and all the fun times I had watching the Nats: the home opener, the time the game ended because the grounds crew couldn't pull the tarp out during a rain delay, the upper-deck bomb Barry Bonds hit in September. But who knows if the Nationals will even stick around? They probably will, but it's up in the air right now.
GW provided the absolute best sports memories, and also the best atmosphere for watching a game. It just feels like college basketball should. Unlike Maryland and Georgetown, who play in huge arenas, GW plays in a smallish, 4000-person on-campus gym. You're pretty much right on top of the action, no matter where you sit. The band is loud, the students are loud, and you even sometimes have GW alum Red Auerbach on hand as a spectator. How does it get more basketbally than that? Even better: the team is good, and better than those other local schools with the huge arenas, but it's still pretty easy to get tickets.
And luckily, the students didn't mind the slightly older fan sitting in their section, thanks to guest passes. This really paid off last December, when I was sitting in the student section wearing a goofy three-corner colonial hat (I like novelty headgear) at the MCI Center's BB&T Classic. I was selected to shoot some baskets for free plane tickets, and I did it, in front of 15,000 fans. I used the tickets for my San Francisco vacation last May. That's definitely going to be my best D.C. memory.
So, even though I did my graduate work at Georgia Tech, when Tech was playing GW in the tournament last year, I found myself rooting for GW. It's been fun watching them mature into a great team, and they've given me some great basketball memories.
4) I rediscovered my love for writing while living here. I loved working on the newspaper in college, and I did some freelance sports writing after that, but I just didn't wind up going into writing for a living. And I don't think I realized how much I missed it until I started blogging.
I promise that I didn't think that many people were going to read my stuff. I never had that much confidence in my writing, but having complete editorial freedom to write about any crazy thing I wanted wound up being more fun than I expected. Plus, I got a lot of great e-mail support letters. I didn't reply to all of them, but I did read them all, and they helped keep my confidence up and kept me writing.
I'm working on an article right now; in the end, I don't know if anyone will publish it, but all the support I've gotten gave me the confidence to get started and at least give it a shot. You never know... it could be the beginning of a great writing career for me. Who says nothing good comes out of hate?
(BTW, I owe a lot to the writing style of Seanbaby. If you liked my writing, you'll probably like his even better.)
3) My bike trail. Out the back of my apartment complex to the Custis trail; down the hill to Giant Statue of Teddy Roosevelt Island; follow the river, across from the monuments; around the airport to Four Mile Run trail; on the street briefly, for a tough uphill climb to the I-395 pedestrian ramp (I had a good Rocky moment the first time I made it up without stopping); through Shirlington; up the W&OD Trail, back to the Custis Trail. Seventeen miles, and I got my time down to 1:10 at one point. It was also where I did my best thinking.
2) My friends. They had to put up with all my complaining and general crankiness. It's always hard to move on and leave your friends behind, but I hope they'll keep in touch.
1) E Street Cinema. Sorry, friends, I'm not cheesy enough to put you at #1. E Street theater is definitely the best thing that happened to Washington while I was here. I'm a huge film buff, and one of my favorite big-city-dwelling activities has always been being able to see independent movies that aren't available in smaller cities.
But I found Washington to be sorely lacking in this regard, at first. We had some theaters that would show unusual things, but they simply weren't good places for watching movies. Visions near Dupont Circle was the worst offender; they would show some interesting things, but the screens were tiny and the theaters were narrow, making it like watching a movie being projected at the end of a long hallway. The sound was terrible, and sometimes obscured by construction outside. They had food, but it was bad. Often, they would show things on DVD, and there would inevitably be some disc skipping.
And then... E Street opened. And It Was Good. This wasn't some crappy theater with a tiny screen that just happened to show indie films; this was an underground movie palace. Literally underground, because there was not a whole lot of room for new construction where they put it, so they went subterranean. This creates some quirky Tetris-like theater configurations... but it gives the place personality, like Fenway Park. The screens are big, the sound is good, and they show some great films... more than once I wished Twinkie the Kid might sneak out of the White House and sidle down to E Street for some life lessons.
Plus, the neighborhood has picked up... all of a sudden Chinatown has become a hot spot. Granted, it's a little too corporate, but still, it's hard to think of any better place to do dinner and a movie.
So there you go. Now if you'll excuse me, it's been a long, hard slog finding a job, and I have some lazing around and football watching to do. Have a good Xmas, and remember to be good to each other.
(Jesus might be watching.)
12.19.2005
Recurring theme #125A
It's as true today as it was when I moved here:
This is just amazing, and amazingly repetitive. The paramedics are called to treat a badly burned patient, and they can't even be bothered to move with more urgency than the average Restaurant Week waiter.
I know I've probably all-caps-yelled this before a few times, but... WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE? Surely no other city in the country can match this level of apathy. How many millions of times does this have to happen before it gets fixed?
(A: Fourteen million.)
And I think we all know where the blame lies: squarely on the shoulders of Craig T. Nelson.
Damn you, Craig T. Nelson.
Police and federal authorities continued to investigate yesterday the explosion early Saturday of a sport-utility vehicle near the D.C. jail, which badly injured a corrections officer.It's an important lesson to remember. While visiting or living in The District, starring Craig T. Nelson, do not get yourself into some kind of life-threatening situation where you need some kind of namby-pamby "emergency" civil services. Because YOU WILL DIE. In fact, if you're really unlucky, there will be enough time for you to die several times over.
[...]
Witnesses said [the officer] staggered around the flaming vehicle for a brief time until a family in the Southeast Washington neighborhood took her in and tried to comfort her until paramedics arrived. The family said that paramedics did not arrive for more than 35 minutes, despite several calls to dispatchers, and that an additional 20 minutes passed before an ambulance arrived to take the woman to a hospital.
When paramedics arrived, said Carolyn Barnes, Catrice and Crystal's mother, "they took stuff out like they were tired. We told them the lady was badly burned. They still were moving slow."
This is just amazing, and amazingly repetitive. The paramedics are called to treat a badly burned patient, and they can't even be bothered to move with more urgency than the average Restaurant Week waiter.
I know I've probably all-caps-yelled this before a few times, but... WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE? Surely no other city in the country can match this level of apathy. How many millions of times does this have to happen before it gets fixed?
(A: Fourteen million.)
And I think we all know where the blame lies: squarely on the shoulders of Craig T. Nelson.
Damn you, Craig T. Nelson.
This one's for you, Twinkie the Kid
[Bush] also repeated his warnings against a rapid withdrawal from Iraq, saying "to retreat before victory would be an act of recklessness and dishonor -- and I will not allow it."We lost already, Mr. President.
Yeah. I hate to be the one to break this to you. But we lost. We lost the minute we invaded and took over a country that did not pose a threat to us. We lost when we started holding "enemy combatants" indefinitely without a trial. We lost when we secretly tortured people and tried to pass it off as justifiable. We lost when we allowed the government to limit our rights through the Patriot Act. We lost when the FBI encouraged spying on peace protestors and the NSA tapped our phones without oversight.
WE FUCKING LOST. We let a terrorist attack completely compromise the freedoms we keep crowing about defending. That's not what a strong country does; and Mr. Bush, you are not a strong leader. You are weak and a coward. Nothing you can say will convince me that any result following the unnecessary loss of 32,000+ lives is a victory. We lost.
I believe one of my detractors once openly wondered whether I got mad every time I saw one of the big monuments on the Mall. I don't, but I do get sad when I see them, because I think about how little it took for us to abandon our ideals. For the time being, they're a thing of the past.
OK! Is that defeatist enough for you? Sorry, but I'm especially pissed off tonight. Can't sleep after all the crap that's gone down this weekend. I still can't believe the NSA story; I could have gone to work for those people. That would have been a fun ethical pill to swallow.
I guess while I'm awake, I should also tell this other fun story that I never got around to posting. This is a good one that's been kicking around in the brain late at night and needs to be exorcised, bloggy-style. It happened at work, about a month before I got laid off. A co-worker came in and started talking about events of the day, which is always fun. And this was the day after hundreds of Muslims were crushed to death on a bridge in Baghdad, after rumors of an imminent suicide bomber attack spread through the crowd. Basically just a horrible tragedy, and very sad.
Said co-worker's editorial comment on the story:
"Stupid Muslims."
That was it. "Stupid Muslims." Yes, how stupid of them. For getting crushed to death in a panic.
Those fools.
What I should have done was angrily yelled at him to get out of my office, and I actually had half a mind to do that, but I didn't want to get in trouble, so I tried to ignore him instead. Which is no fun at all. Ugh... and, of course, this guy, who I'm not going to name, David Guill, is a devout Christian; because, if Jesus stood for anything, it was reveling in the senseless deaths of others.
Of course, that guy still has a job, and I really really don't. It looks I'm going to need a birthday/Christmas miracle to land a job out of town. (And that's still possible. I'm talking to you, place I follow-up interviewed at last Wednesday. You were supposed to call me last week. Please call me Monday. Get me the crap out of here.)
Four shopping days until utter humiliation. One shopping day until I get turned into Soylent Green.
12.16.2005
Countdown to embarrassment: 7 days
I'm not going to say why, but... let's just say I have to think the Bloggers Alliance is going to frown on this.
Meanwhile, countdown to my Logan's Run-style execution, because I'm turning 30: 4 days.
Countdown to job offer: who knows. Hopefully <1 day.
Meanwhile, countdown to my Logan's Run-style execution, because I'm turning 30: 4 days.
Countdown to job offer: who knows. Hopefully <1 day.
12.09.2005
Stupid wintry mix
I was supposed to have an interview today, but the wintry mix postponed it to next week. I really, really want an offer from this company... it would get me out of Washington. And into the other Washington. State, that is.
Just in time, because I have got to get out of my apartment. This is the fifth... ugh. I can't believe it. The fifth consecutive winter in that damn apartment. The problem is lack of heat; the landlord controls the gas. There is no thermostat in the apartment. So, of course, he keeps it set to "not so much heat." And, he's raising the rent (granted, for the first time since 2002). And, we have ants now.
Yay.
Oh, and here's some more good news: I'm turning 30 soon. My understanding is you're not allowed to blog after turning 30? I think that's how it works. Or, at least, you're not allowed to actually think I'm cool or something. I need to ask the bloggers union about that.
Some moving companies are coming next week to give me an estimate; I'm really hoping for an offer from this company I'm talking to, because I just don't know if I can, in good conscience, spend thousands of dollars to move across the country without having a job lined up first. If things fall through, you may be stuck with me a while longer. And I may be stuck with the ants, crappily ever after.
Just in time, because I have got to get out of my apartment. This is the fifth... ugh. I can't believe it. The fifth consecutive winter in that damn apartment. The problem is lack of heat; the landlord controls the gas. There is no thermostat in the apartment. So, of course, he keeps it set to "not so much heat." And, he's raising the rent (granted, for the first time since 2002). And, we have ants now.
Yay.
Oh, and here's some more good news: I'm turning 30 soon. My understanding is you're not allowed to blog after turning 30? I think that's how it works. Or, at least, you're not allowed to actually think I'm cool or something. I need to ask the bloggers union about that.
Some moving companies are coming next week to give me an estimate; I'm really hoping for an offer from this company I'm talking to, because I just don't know if I can, in good conscience, spend thousands of dollars to move across the country without having a job lined up first. If things fall through, you may be stuck with me a while longer. And I may be stuck with the ants, crappily ever after.
12.03.2005
I shant miss it
I may have found a way out. I don't want to pop the champagne yet, as I still have a follow-up interview to get through. I'm in a little bit of a holding pattern, but it's looking pretty good.
Meanwhile! A lot of stuff probably has been going on that I just haven't been paying attention to. It's definitely easier to live in this city when:
a. You don't have to commute anywhere.
2. You've stopped caring about anything going on around you.
And both of those apply to me right now. I've largely tuned out the world these last two months, and I've basically been super-busy looking for work and doing various other chores/hobbies/fun things.
But there were two deliciously stupid things I turned up yesterday that I had to blog aboot. Abooooooot.
a. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I have higher standards for civic employees than I should. Maybe my expectation that people who work for a city should take some measure of civic pride in their work is misguided.
Suspect in D.C. Nightclub Shootings Freed by Mistake.
Maybe it's wrong of me to expect the employees at D.C. City Jail take their job marginally more seriously than the lunchtime line-order cook at Five Guys in Georgetown. (Who is also, by the way, very lax on the job. You're on notice, line-order cook. Stop flirting with the ladies and gimme my fucking burger.)
Have you no sense of decency, D.C. jail system? At long last? OK, well, your sense of comic timing is spot on, at least:
But the hilarity DOESN'T STOP THERE. After they let him go accidentally, the jail didn't notify the cops FOR A WEEK.
HOLY FUCKING GOD.
This isn't even up to the level of "Bump-bump-ba-nah, wahhhhhhh." This is way worse. So of course, with a WEEK'S HEAD START, the suspect got away, and is probably lounging around somewhere in Jamaica or thereaboots.
So that's the city in a nutshell. Scary: Some dude wounds four people in a shooting, and gets inadvertantly set free. And... nobody cares. The people whose job it is to keep him locked up... just DON'T CARE. Even after they fuck up, they don't care.
Scarier: They've fucked up this badly before, or worse, and still nobody cares. This didn't even get much play in the Post... it ran on B4.
(Updated since I started writing this last night... the guy did not flee to Jamaica like he should have, but instead fled to... Southeast D.C. And was bagged by some U.S. Marshals. The escape is being blamed on "staff negligence.")
2. There's a new bowling alley in Chinatown. Normally I'd be all about this; I sort of like some of the new developments in Chinatown, and it's nice to finally have a neighborhood where there are a lot of people hanging around on a random Tuesday at 10 p.m., and you can get there easily from just about anywhere via Metro. The movie theater's nice; Matchbox is a good new restaurant. Bowling should be another plus. I like Strike Bethesda, and I'd go there more often if it were easier to get to. This looked like a good chance to add to the Chinatown atmosphere.
Oh, but for the D.C. twist, vich ve hate: the dress code.
Why?
Why is there a dress code?
Why is there a dress code... at a bowling alley? IT'S BOWLING. Bowling should not have a dress code. Bowling should be conducive to scuzziness, if desired.
Of course, the DCist readers have it figured out: the dress code excludes black people. Or, at least, black people who actually dress like black people. It reads:
Meanwhile! A lot of stuff probably has been going on that I just haven't been paying attention to. It's definitely easier to live in this city when:
a. You don't have to commute anywhere.
2. You've stopped caring about anything going on around you.
And both of those apply to me right now. I've largely tuned out the world these last two months, and I've basically been super-busy looking for work and doing various other chores/hobbies/fun things.
But there were two deliciously stupid things I turned up yesterday that I had to blog aboot. Abooooooot.
a. Maybe it's just me. Maybe I have higher standards for civic employees than I should. Maybe my expectation that people who work for a city should take some measure of civic pride in their work is misguided.
Suspect in D.C. Nightclub Shootings Freed by Mistake.
Maybe it's wrong of me to expect the employees at D.C. City Jail take their job marginally more seriously than the lunchtime line-order cook at Five Guys in Georgetown. (Who is also, by the way, very lax on the job. You're on notice, line-order cook. Stop flirting with the ladies and gimme my fucking burger.)
Have you no sense of decency, D.C. jail system? At long last? OK, well, your sense of comic timing is spot on, at least:
According to the Corrections Department, Harris appeared in D.C. Superior Court on the shooting charge Nov. 21 and was returned to the jail with a document authorizing his release.BOI-OI-OING! It's the wackiest jail in the city! They let the guy go. This could be the makings of the shortest season of Prison Break ever. You don't even need the tattoos and the corrosive liquid in the toothpaste tube and the tape recorder; all you need is a piece of paper saying "Let me go!" and they will.
After Harris's release, corrections officials received documents ordering that he be held without bond, the Corrections Department statement said.
But the hilarity DOESN'T STOP THERE. After they let him go accidentally, the jail didn't notify the cops FOR A WEEK.
HOLY FUCKING GOD.
This isn't even up to the level of "Bump-bump-ba-nah, wahhhhhhh." This is way worse. So of course, with a WEEK'S HEAD START, the suspect got away, and is probably lounging around somewhere in Jamaica or thereaboots.
So that's the city in a nutshell. Scary: Some dude wounds four people in a shooting, and gets inadvertantly set free. And... nobody cares. The people whose job it is to keep him locked up... just DON'T CARE. Even after they fuck up, they don't care.
Scarier: They've fucked up this badly before, or worse, and still nobody cares. This didn't even get much play in the Post... it ran on B4.
(Updated since I started writing this last night... the guy did not flee to Jamaica like he should have, but instead fled to... Southeast D.C. And was bagged by some U.S. Marshals. The escape is being blamed on "staff negligence.")
2. There's a new bowling alley in Chinatown. Normally I'd be all about this; I sort of like some of the new developments in Chinatown, and it's nice to finally have a neighborhood where there are a lot of people hanging around on a random Tuesday at 10 p.m., and you can get there easily from just about anywhere via Metro. The movie theater's nice; Matchbox is a good new restaurant. Bowling should be another plus. I like Strike Bethesda, and I'd go there more often if it were easier to get to. This looked like a good chance to add to the Chinatown atmosphere.
Oh, but for the D.C. twist, vich ve hate: the dress code.
Why?
Why is there a dress code?
Why is there a dress code... at a bowling alley? IT'S BOWLING. Bowling should not have a dress code. Bowling should be conducive to scuzziness, if desired.
Of course, the DCist readers have it figured out: the dress code excludes black people. Or, at least, black people who actually dress like black people. It reads:
LUCKY STRIKE LANESIt would have been so much easier to just go with
Dress Code
STRICTLY ENFORCED
NO Sweats or Athletic Wear
NO Skull Caps of any kind
NO Excessively Baggy Clothing
NO Torn or Soiled Clothing
NO Clothing with Offensive Writing
NO Shirtless Vests or Jackets
NO Sleveless Shirts for men
NO Exposed Intimate Apparel
NO Sports Jerseys
NO Baggy White T-Shirts
NO Excessively Long Sweaters or Jackets
NO Excessively Long Shirts or T's
NO Chains
11.18.2005
That's just wrong
Those Post reporters have no idea how to behave on a message board. There's, like, not even any cursing, or racism.
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