The sky here in the winter is the one thing I love about freezing my ass off here in DC in November through early March. Leaving the poker game, up $75, at just about quarter to one in the morning, I was greeted with such a lovely sky, that it made me forget the fact that it was only 29 degrees outside. Orion ascendant to the South, the blood red dot of Mars in the eastern sky, Procyon twinkling like a sapphire on a field of blue.

The whole thing looked so perfect, like an artist’s rendering, set in crystal above me.

As we left work last night for happy, the pale blue remnants of the day were settling in, chasing the orange out over Treasury across Freedom Plaza from us. The sky over the Reagan Center was that perfect fall mix of azure and turquoise.

Winter sky.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

My housemate has a houseguest this week, so I’m thinking its him when someone wants to buzz in at my apartment’s front door. A few minutes later, I hear soft tapping at my door, but when I open it, not a crunchy environmentalist type do I see.

Shaking my hand, talking fast, and trying to slip past me is a guy looking a little too fiendish to be a friend of mine, or friend of my friends. Fiendish in that, “I need a morning fix to stop the shakes” kinda way. Saying something about knowing a guy on my floor and needing cab fare to get out his tools, I quickly realize what’s happening, and telling him “good try” I slam the door in his face.

From my corner window I check the front of the building. No taxi there, so I was right, Mr. Flim Flam Man was looking for a quick $10’er. Then its time for me to be Mr. Do the Right Thing and I go looking for Mr. Flim Flam Man, just to make sure he’s not pulling this gig on someone else.

Nope, Flim Flam has left the building. See him in yours yet?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

When I lived in Russia, I learned that if it’s cold enough to see your breath, or ice crystals form on your eyelashes, its time to wear a hat. This rule was strictly enforced by babushkas, Russian grandmothers, who would beat you about the head, face, neck, and chest with 20kg bags of potatoes and cabbage, screaming “We respect the winter here!” if they saw you go out hatless on a cold winters’ day.

Here you know its time when Tom makes two posts in one week about the temp drop, here and here. I know, for I saw my breath this morning and on went the hat. Yep, I still wear a hat in winter, and think its about time for you to wear one too.

Oh and not punk ass baseball or trucker hats, but full on wool or leather hats. You’d be surprised how many places sell good hats and how hot a man can be wearing one. Just check out Brad here to the right. The past two years, I’ve raided the Filene’s Basement at 14th and E for good toppery. Hects has a decent selection, and the shops around Friendship Heights Metro, both cheap and cashola, give great variety.

So embrace your inner real man, be not Kennedy on his Inauguration Day, be smart, be cool, be warm – wear a hat!

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

A co-worker of mine just got sent home to change. His crime? Wearing jeans on Friday. Apparently it isn’t allowed in my office, which strikes me as strange, as it’s a very casual dress office anyway. Hearing of his expulsion another co-worker slipped out to change – she too was wearing jeans. Mind you, these aren’t inexperienced workers either, nor are they low on the food chain. It may be Friday, no VIPs visiting the office, everyone starting to leave for Thanksgiving break, but there are “no exceptions” to the rule.

It’s made me think about the changing dress code of DC offices. I remember going on some of my very first interviews as a callow youth (back before the New Economy made khakis acceptable) and being told quite plainly that in Washington, many offices outlawed pantsuits for women, and I would be wise to adjust my attire. My Yankee blood boiled and I vowed never to work for such an organization. Had they never heard of Katharine Hepburn? How about Marlene Dietrich? Later, as pantsuits broke through the glass ceiling, the rule to break became the “always wear hose even in the deadly DC August heat,” which I found to be insanely backward. My personal rule has always been, if you are dressed appropriately for the occasion, the day, and the season, it shouldn’t matter about the “rules” – they are certainly different by region and by country, anyway.

Any similar experiences with the office fashion police?
What do you think is acceptable/unacceptable?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

JetBlue is expanding service at Dulles, adding 5-6 flights a day to Boston’s Logan airport. Introductory fares will be cheaper than all get-out, starting at $25 each way, if you book by November 30th on a 7 day advance ticket, for flights between 17 Jan 2006 and 15 Feb 2006. So, if you’re looking at heading up to Boston for a little midwinter fun, JetBlue’s going to be your cheap option for now.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Do you think you can eat, and I mean really eat? You thinking a whole turkey for yourself next week? Or a dozen pumpkin pies? And do you think you can out-eat your friends and neighbours?

Before you get bloated, read about Sonya Thomas of Alexandria, Competitive Eating’s “The Black Widow“. This woman can eat you under the table. We’re talking 7 and 3/4 pounds of Tur-duck-en (chicken, wrapped in duck, wrapped in turkey) in 12 minutes. Desert? That’s 11 pounds of cheesecake in nine minutes.

How does she do it? Well the Wash Post article says:

Thomas insists that she keeps all of her food down and that she developed her stomach’s seemingly limitless capacity primarily by drinking three 42-ounce diet Cokes every day during her shift as manager at the Burger King at Andrews Air Force Base. Many people think she purges, “but it’s not the truth,” Thomas said. “They don’t understand how you can expand inside the stomach, how you can train.” Thomas said she digests her food within eight to 12 hours after a competition and has never become sick.

And now you have a goal for this Thanksgiving. Just be sure Mom is there with a bucket – Elvis may have to leave the building!

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Independence Air, beleagured and bankrupt, may be snatched up by Richard Branson as part of a way to launch Virgin America. But, FlyerTalk’s View from the Wing isn’t so sure:

Personally I don’t see this happening, both because I’m skeptical of most Branson efforts. A fabulous entrepreneur, there’s usually more buzz than substance when Branson rumors circulate. The rules on foreign ownership of US airlines are moving towards relaxation, but any changes are unlikely to be in effect in time for an Independence bid. And the Virgin America project has simply demonstrated a greater propensity for inaction than reality over the last couple of years.

Regardless, the airline goes up for auction in the middle of the next month, will everything going to the highest bidder.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

2005-11-15 dc car fire at the national archives (more context)

Originally uploaded by schizoform.

From the Flickrstream of Schizoform comes this image taken outside the National Archives Tuesday Morning (according to the EXIF data), but neither WTOP nor other local stations seemed to have any coverage. The next photos in the stream seem to indicate that the fire was quickly extinguished by the DCFD. Very cool to see Flickr being used as a news service, in some regards.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Man it’s chilly this morning. If you think that’s bad though, take a look at tomorrow night:

Seriously, time to unpack the heavy winter weather gear, tomorrow night it’s going well below freezing. If you really want to help someone stay warm tonight, consider taking an extra coat down to the First District Coat Drive at 415 Fourth St. SW from 8a to 4p today and tomorrow (and has been running all week). The cause is good, and it’s getting chilly again. A coat isn’t just warmth, it’s life.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Well, our beloved Cell Phone Bandit has confessed to four bank robberies. Turns out it was her boyfriend that she was talking to on that cellphone, he was her getaway driver. What’s really sad about the whole thing is her family had no idea that she had turned to crime, as they sent her here to go to college.

My mother told me once or twice that she worried about sending people to DC, that somehow the girls would end up power hungry and sleeping with politicians for influence, and how this whole town could corrupt just with the mere touch. This will only perpetuate those DC myths. Great.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

You ever feel like this whole city commutes in and out each day? Have you ever been the lone DC resident at your work, fighting for bicycle and bus benefits while everyone else wants more parking? Ever feel DC is empty on Sundays? Well, your perceptions are reality.

DC on Sunday

The 2000 US Census ranks DC as #1 in daytime population change due to commuting for any major city in America, with a whopping 72% change in working population each day. The 260,884 DC residents who worked in DC in 2000 were supplemented by 410,794 suburbanites commuting in for jobs, raising our overall population from 572,059 to 982,853 every day.

This daily flow is impressive to me, with a sea of headlights in the morning, rivers of taillights at night, and an odd calm in between both. Every so often, I dive into that flow and look around, thinking “so this is what a water molecule feels like in the Bay of Fundy. What does it feel like to you?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I can barely find any coverage of this, and it just seems wrong to me, so pardon the crappy metro listing when I tell you that the corpse flower is about to bloom at the US Botanic Garden.

What is the corpse flower? It’s a huge blossom (think Little Shop of Horrors) that happens to smell like rotting flesh. Yep, a giant, stinky flower. It’s exceedingly rare and the species doesn’t bloom all that often, but the US Botanic Garden has one and you’ll be able to go smell it for yourself on Sunday and Monday.

It’s fairly common for conservatories to provide webcams so you can see the stinky bloom without actually having to smell it, but what fun is that? No word yet on whether the USBG plans to offer the cop-out option.

The flower, also known as the titan arum, smells like rotting flesh to attract carrion insects to the bloom so they can pollinate it. You can read more about the stinky flower here.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Adrian Fenty is running for Mayor of DC. He’s also, as of this evening, asked for the city council to start the process to add a referendum to overturn the Congressional ban on a commuter tax, according to NBC 4 news tonight at 11. The problem here is thus: the Referendum is preaching to the choir. It’s asking DC residents to decide that the city has power to tax the people who work in the District, but don’t live there. Please note that last part. It’s asking DC residents whether or not it’s okay to tax people that won’t be able to vote in the referendum. So, essentially, asking them if it’s okay if they shake down those people who are required to come into the city for their jobs for half their tax money while their own schools and road suffer as a result of the neglect. Why gee, thanks DC, that sounds like a great idea! Isn’t it bad enough I pay double the sales tax on my lunch than were I to buy it in Clarendon or Rosslyn or Bethesda? Isn’t it bad enough I pay double for the tax on my beer and dinner after work? Apparently not.

But what about all those license plates? The ones that read “Taxation Without Representation”? The ones whose mandate seems to say “We’re getting royally fucked by congress”? That’s exactly what you want to do those commuters. Fuck them. Fuck their communities. Fuck their schools. Fuck their roads. We have no vote in the mayoral or city council election, those of us who live in Arlington or Bethesda or PG County or Annapolis and brave the trip into the city. We have no say in your process, but somehow you want a good chunk of our change?

No way. Nuh uh. Sorry, dude, that’s not how this government of ours works. I’m sorry that you’re getting fucked by Congress on this whole budget oversight thing, really, I am, but decades of corruption and mismanagement aren’t our fault. Remember, we can’t vote in DC. We live in Maryland and Virginia, we vote for our own politicians, pay taxes in our own communities. I’m for your right to representation in Congress, I believe that the framers of our Constitution wanted Federal Representation for all of the citizens, not just those who live outside the federal city’s borders. But that belief in representation as a function of taxation is grounded in the citizen’s right to participate in that process through exercise of their franchise, and DC will be committing the same egregious sin that they are the victims of.

Do not rob Peter to pay Paul, Councilman Fenty. It’s the wrong way to go about this.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

What would happen if some 20 or so inches of rain fell on DC in the span of a day or so? Hideous Catastrophe. What would happen if that flood was followed by a brutal winter like none we’ve ever seen before? Fifty Degrees Below.

He read tonight at the Borders’ Books in Bailey’s Crossroads from Fifty Degrees, from sections that describe the protagonists’ trips through a nigh-on post-apocalyptic Rock Creek Park in late fall (not far from today), and a part from the deep and frozen winter. He then took questions about his recent works, an attempt at transcription are below. Text is paraphrased unless marked with “quotes.”

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs Continue reading →

I’ve a confession to make. I’ve never actually been to a Beaujolais Nouveau party. I know it’s a big deal if you like young fruity French red wine, but somehow I always seem to miss it. If you’re a clueless Viking like me, here’s the drill.

The wine can’t be sold until the third Thursday of November, so it’s officially uncorked at midnight tomorrow. Starting late Wednesday night the traditionally fun parties are at Les Halles downtown and Bistrot du Coin in Dupont Circle – apparently this last one gets quite wild. Thursday night you can party at the French Embassy.

I once worked for a Frenchman, a Parisian no less. On the third Thursday he and a friend left for a “quiet” lunch at Les Halles. Three hours later they strolled into the office, giggling like schoolboys, with very conspicuously flushed cheeks. “We’ve been bad French boys,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “But what can you expect? Le Beaujolais est arriv

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Candy, Candy, Candy. Why? Why oh why did you rob banks on your cellphone? We just want to know why you couldn’t hang up the important call with your mother and just rob the bank like a normal crook? We understand that it’s possible you may have been coerced by the two men that were arrested with you, but seriously, girl, Bank Robbery?

Better yet, why did you even bother to pay your HOV ticket when you’re about to become a wanted felon? That one I just don’t get…

But yes, the world is now safe from cellphone bandits, as Candice Martinez was arrested early this morning as the cellphone robber, down in Springfield along with two other men. Her immediate family was shocked and horrified, as they thought she’d come to stay with extended family members.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

“Let’s go see some art, ” my friend suggested, “I’ll be at your house in twenty minutes. Pick a place.”

That was a tall order for my sleepy Saturday afternoon brain, but luckily some googling brought up a recent Post article on the “Gyroscope” exhibit at the Hirshhorn Museum, and considering last week’s success with the Smithsonian, that was the winning choice.

“Gyroscope” is a rotating exhibit that highlights various works in seemingly haphazard groupings. It’s perfect for exploring a sort of “greater & lesser-known hits” of modern art. As you wander slowly through the rooms, the evocative pieces in various media are constantly challenging your eye.

Standouts for me were several skinny sculptures by Alberto Giacometti, a room of Francis Bacon’s luridly colored, eerie paintings, and an installation by Ann Hamilton called palimpsest.

It’s a small room filled with slips of yellowed paper – collections of memories – a beeswax floor that scents the room (to protect it, you have to wear dust booties to enter), and a glass case with snails slowly eating two cabbages. This piece divided my friend and I – he thought it was rather pretentious, and didn’t go in. I initially agreed with him, but then did go in. Once inside my feelings changed as the honeyed smell and the pencilled thoughts worked their introspective magic. The room took on an amber jewel-box allure.

Also intriguing was a multimedia piece that consisted of a short animated film projected from inside a medicine cabinet, images moving from the mundane to the imaginative as birds replaced bottles. I wish I’d noted the artist’s name, but by that point I was too hypnotised by the collection as we meandered quietly through…

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

How do you know that Emily’s Raging Birthday Celebration really was off the hook? When the Monday morning email from the host is:

Hello All! Hope you all had fun on Sat!! It looks like someone had so much fun that they left the house party with no shoes – a pair of strappy sandals were left at my place. If anyone has really dirty feet from going to Irish Times barefoot, send me an email!!

Okay, now barefoot at the Irish Times? Can anyone think of a worse dirty-floor bar to be barefoot in? Its so spilt-beer sloppy, I moved from the Constitution to the Independence WAKA kickball league just to get away from it.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

It’s rare that I find myself in epicurean Washington,
let alone socialite Washington. I try to stay out of Georgetown and off Embassy Row,
but today,
I went out to the Races. Taking the Toll Road west of the city to its end in Leesburg,
VA and up to Morven Park Equestrian Center for the 26th running of the Morven Park Steeplechase,
which is like Gold Cup,
only without idiots in popped collars trying not to look like douchebags,
and without the bizarro hat obsession that seems to follow that rite of spring. The weather was perfect,
sunny,
warm,
crisp and autumnal,
and the park itself was splendid,
a course along some rolling terrain with a perfectly manicured track and several amazingly cool horse jumps.

We walked up to the Hospitality Hill where tents were set up for various sponsors,
all overlooking the race course in its entirety. What a way to watch the races. We could see the entire of the course,
which you couldn’t do from rail-side,
and the experience was just amazing. The horses would glide by,
making graceful leaps over the jumps,
and make the turns in beautiful curves. While sipping some Oban,
I made a few wagers on the horses,
none of which panned out. Tiff’s sole pick came out victorious though,
netting us a whole $5. It was early,
still. The food good,
and the company well-dressed and well-learned. It was a grand day,
full of good weather,
better booze,
and catered cuisine. Leaving the races,
we drove back in,
stuffed and sated. So,
this is the sport of Kings. Excellent.

We met our friends Dave,
Jason and Beth in Georgetown for dinner,
completing my day of upper class excess in the city. We parked in our secret hidden space (what,
I can’t have a few secrets? If I told you where I could almost always park in that neighborhood notorious for parking problems,
I wouldn’t get to park there anymore!) and wandered the crowded streets with spare sidewalks. Past the superlative restaurants and upscale grocery/deli,
to the store you can smell from a block away,
and back past my favorite Piano bar. Pictures are downloading from my camera still,
or I would share a few,
but it was a good night,
and a rare one for me.

I am not a formal man,
nor do I dress with expensive style and aplomb. This town has so many places where the dress code is above my usual jeans and a polo shirt,
as evidenced by the Tabaq Dress Code Debacle seen on DCist earlier this week. I like places where the pretention isn’t the atmosphere,
which I suppose just reinforces that I am a West Coast Guy living smack in the middle of the East Coast. But sometimes,
just sometimes,
it’s okay to put your khakis back on for the weekend and rub elbows with the upper class. Even if I wish I was playing disc golf.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs