Last time I wrote about coffee wars, it was Starbucks vs. Juan Valdez, an epic roaster showdown on Seventh Street.

Now it appears the field of battle will expand to the dreaded War on Two Fronts scenario. The Post is reporting that venerable New England chain Dunkin’ Donuts (recently acquired by DC’s own Carlyle Group) plans to launch its expansion in the Washington/Baltimore area, with a purported additional 325 stores by 2010. And of course, they’ve started off by opening a new store in Eastern Market across the street from a Starbucks, exactly Juan Valdez’s tactic in Penn Quarter.

Every morning before dropping me off at high school, my dad would stop at Dunkin’ Donuts – he for a steaming cup of joe, while I would devour a hefty doughnut (ah, the days when carbs were cool!). But ever since my move to the Almost South, I’ve become a Krispy Kreme convert (at least as far as doughnuts are concerned. I know a lot of people who still prefer the Dunk’s coffee to Starbucks or any other). So I’m interested to see if more Dunkin’ Donuts in DC will sway my loyalty back. Or if Firehook will remain my drugstore (ah, coffeeshop) of choice.

In any event, the most interesting thing to me is whether or not we’re reaching the point where the coffeeshop market is over-saturated, or whether the expansion of these other java players will continue unabated for the caffeinated good of all. So let the battle continue!

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Being one who usually shies well away from politics, especially local politics, let me be the first MBDC writer to endorse a mayoral candidate. And let me have the best reason too.

I advocate voting for Adrian Fenty because of Fleet Feet in Adams Morgan.

Fleet Feet is the best shoe store I’ve found in Washington DC.

Moments after you walk in, even on a super busy Saturday morning in the spring, you are greeted and asked if you need any help. If you say no, you are left alone to browse or buy.

If yes, you are attended on then and there, or if crazy busy, politely asked to wait a second. Never do you get the surly big store sales person or the Foot Locker over sell. Fleet Feet also sells swim goggles, needed for my triathlons, and you can try test pairs on before you buy.

Why does Fleet Feet matter? After eight years of buy shoes from Fleet Feet, which just happens to be my neighbourhood shoes store too, I say whoever is affiliated with it knows how to treat customers, and voters, right.

And Fleet Feet is run by Adrian’s parents and Adrian worked there growing up. He knows people and he’s not afraid to get down at the sweaty, dusty end of them and find a good fit.

And in this age of TV politics, I don’t believe a word the candidates say pre-election. I look to their pre-politics roots to find out who they are. Fenty comes from a working family, and he’s not afraid to roll up his sleeves.

Add to that the poor choices we have. Cropp, a politician so long, you have to look at her record and ask: what was she doing in the Barry days? Johns, she’s a Verizon stooge, and I have no love for unresponsive monopolies.

The choice is clear: I say Adrian Fenty for Mayor.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

A well-dressed man on his way down K Street answers his mobile.

“Hey ‘stick, what’s happening?”

“What the fuck? You know what’s happening. What the hell is this I hear about Atlanta trying to edge me out?”

“Oh yeah, that. Look, what can I say? Lun Lun must have gotten the same fertility doc your mom got.”

“That’s not the answer I’m looking for, Jerry. I’m Tai Shan, I’m the cute baby panda, and that AP reporter described HIM as ‘about the size of a stick of butter.'”

“Well, what ELSE is the size of a baby panda, ‘stick?”

“I don’t care. You’re my publicist, I pay you to think of those things. Now do your job and get the cameras back to the Panda Habitat in DC.”

“Look, Tai Shan, why don’t you come on down to the office this afternoon, and we’ll talk about a new direction for your career.”

“Why would I need a new direction? I’m Butterstick! Wonkette loves me. People line up out the doors to see me.”

“‘Stick, you’re not going to be young and cute forever. And this guy? He may be pink and hairless now, but he’s younger than you, and in a month or two, he’s going to be cuter than you.”

*click*

The man mutters to himself. “God, you can’t tell that guy anything.”

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

It’s a natural tendency to make the star of your photo the focal point. You aim your camera and think to yourself, “Wow, check that out.” But sometimes it pays to put your subject to the side or in the dark, and let your viewer soak in the total scene as claudiabeatriz does with this sunset photo of the monument. I could do without some of the trees, but overall this photo works for me due to the warm color, composition (rule of thirds), and because the Washington Monument is probably my favorite icon in our city.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

So there I was, on my way to lunch along L Street yesterday, when I notice the police cars closing off the intersection and the cops motioning for people to stay on the sidewalk. Great. Motorcade. Looks like I’m stranded for a few minutes. And I’m hungry.

But then I marveled at the people- both in cars and pedestrians, who tried to sneak across the street. Like that Escalade was really going to evade the cop’s notice, dude. The trickle of impatient Washingtonians didn’t abate until the uniformed Secret Service officers on motorcycles showed up.

One of the officers pulled up next to the people on my corner and grinned. “Hope we’re not holding you up too much.” The response from one of my fellow pedestrians: “I’m just missing a meeting!”

I smiled. Is it really SO important that I get back to work five minutes faster? Leaving aside the question of whether it’s really so important that the Emir of Kuwait get to his speaking engagement at the Military Officers’ Association (that’s what the motorcade was for) for the moment… what I do isn’t brain surgery. No one is going to die if I spend a couple of extra minutes on the sidewalk. Sure, I’m hungry and that makes me cranky, but it’s not like I’m wasting away…

What I do get is a couple of minutes to be alone with my own, non-work thoughts. A mental coffeebreak, if you will. I’m one of the most irrationally impatient people I know, and it occurs to me that quietly seething every time a touron stands to the left on a Metro escalator or someone takes too long at the self-checkout at the grocery store is not the most healthy way to live.

I suspect that Downtown DC is full of people like me on a weekday afternoon. I invite you all to join me in trying to view motorcades and Metro delays as opportunities for mental rest, not personal affronts to your productivity. Perhaps we can collectively reduce this town’s blood pressure, no?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I just had two three comments show up in my email, they’re from “Carmelita Lopez” whose address goes back to an ESPN.com address (first WTF?), and they’re posting a YouTube video in the comments:

It’s a re-dub of a 30-second spot that Fenty put up on his site, and offers, an, um, different view of Adrian Fenty. What’s up with the re-dub? Well, they’re saying that because the original ad on the fenty webpage is titled Fenty420.swf he must clearly be a pothead and down with drugs instead of beating a path to all the neighbors doors.

So. Is this:

1) Linda Cropp’s Revenge?

2) The work of some clever blogger?

3) The work of some person who really needs help?

4) An entertaining way to pass the time?

I dunno, you tell me.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I’ve driven the beltway by the Mormon Temple countless times, always convinced it’s DC’s Disneyland, a shining castle overlooking the city. But, really, it’s a Mormon Temple, instead. Check out this beautiful High Dynamic Range shot from Bob Jagendorf on Flickr. HDR is an incredible way to shoot this town, giving a surreal cast to the image. Check out this HDR Tutorial if you’re interested in more HDR Photos.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Shortly after Mayor for Life Marion Shepilov Barry formally endorsed Adrian Fenty for Mayor, the Crackheads Union threw their support behind Adrian Fenty. Tyrone Biggums from the Crackheads Union Local 304 issued the following statement shortly thereafter: “If he’s good enough for my man Barry, he’s good enough for me. Damn, I want some crack!” Biggums then ran from the scene scratching at his neck at the invisible bugs beneath his skin shouting something about a 5 o’clock free crack giveway.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

For years I’ve been hearing a familiar refrain from my supermodels:

There are not enough men in DC. Real Men. That’s why I lowered my standards and dated you.

For years I’ve also laughed off that comment because, well, its true and I’ll take a clock-stopping hot supermodel any way I can.

Still, I’ve always wondered if there was any rationale for that comment, or if it was just a stock whine women had, like remembering their names and such. Then I read today’s Male Bass Across Region Found to Be Bearing Eggs Washington Post article.

(Men, you might wanna hold your nuts while you read this next paragraph)

More than 80 percent of all the male smallmouth bass [federal and state researchers] found were growing eggs, including all of the fish caught at four of the seven survey sites [in Potomac tributaries]. The intersex condition doesn’t change the fish’s outward appearance but can be detected under a microscope.

At the site in Washington, seven of 13 male largemouth bass showed some kind of unusual feminine characteristic. Six of the seven fish tested positive for a protein used to produce eggs, and three of the seven contained eggs, Blazer said.

Yes, you read that right, the Potomac has a hermaphrodite bass problem. Over 50% of the male fish ain’t 100% man bass.

What does this mean for us humans, drinking and bathing in Potomac water every day? The officials say:

“I don’t know, and I don’t think anybody knows, the answer to that question right now: Is the effect in the fish transferable to humans?” said Thomas Jacobus, general manager of the Washington Aqueduct

Well I think we do know the answer to that question. I know, I know the answer. Before moving to DC, I was a Real Man – I worked construction, I drove a pick-up truck, I even knew NASCAR drivers, some personally.

Now, after eight years of endocrine disrupting Potomac woman-water, I know the difference between fuchsia and chartreuse, get mani-pedis bi-weekly, and once a month go on a Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk binge.

We’ll not even start on my lisp or man-tits.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Like many cities, DC is home to a number of fictional characters. Hollywood, amongst other cabals of creative artists, is obsessed with Washington DC almost as much as it is obsessed with its own Los Angeles. DC is the backdrop for so many stories, so many amazing characters. Today, we begin to recount our own fictional characters, much as New York and Los Angeles have done. Enjoy our list, it will unfold through next Tuesday.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Friday’s blustery winds blew the rain under our rickety umbrellas. A friend and I were undeterred in our desire to get some tasty comfort food on a chilly hurricane night. We braved the four blocks up to Etete. What could be more comforting than food made with love by Mama’s hands?

Etete, a tiny Ethiopian restaurant at 1942 Ninth Street, is named for its chef-owner Etete Tesfaye (Etete means Mama). It opened back in October of 2004, and is part of the string of Ethiopian eateries fast remaking Ninth Street into a culinary destination, a development which gave rise to the “Little Ethiopia” controversy last year.

I’ve only had Ethiopian a handful of times, a shocking shame in a city that could very well say it’s the foremost ethnic cuisine here. But I wasn’t too thrilled with my first experiences, back in my Adams Morgan days. Happily, Friday’s night rainy sojourn convinced me otherwise.

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

I sit at Murky Coffee today, working on some stats packages, watching the rain fall down on the freshly paved Wilson Boulevard, with Johnny Cash singing mournful songs accompanied by acoustic guitar. In the distance, the trees in the park down the street are beginning to turn just that bit golden that signifies that the winter of my discontent is coming again, with its cold and with its snow.

The tables outside are huddled together beneath the overhang, the usual population absent from the sidewalk cafe. The last refugees of the summer sit beneath the overhang smoking cigarettes and talking over rapidly cooling coffee.

Fall is here. Winter is Coming. There’s no turning back.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

There’s just a week left until nuclear war election day in DC, and the final words from the local papers are in. The Post is endorsing Adrian Fenty, and so did the Examiner, while The Times is endorsing Marie Johns. Linda Cropp has yet to receive a major media endorsement. With just a week to go before the polls open, what are your thoughts on this latest election cycle? Will we see Adrian Fenty or Linda Cropp take the oath of office? Will it be outrunner Marie Johns in a surprise victory? Will Marion Barry win a crazy write-in campaign?

What say you?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I love this little rack that appears in my office building lobby on rainy days.

Umbrella condoms are so handy when you’re trying to keep your wet umbrella from soaking your office and your self.

What is your solution?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

This is the S1 Bus scene on a rainy morning – filled to capacity with wet riders.

What you can’t see is the hole in the roof just past the back door where the emergency roof exit is missing its cover, flooding the back seats with pouring rain.

What you can’t hear is the driver still asking folks to move back past the back door, or the angry responses that the bus is full.

What I ask now is why drivers seem to think that they should pack more and more people in the bus when it’s already full? Is there a rule that says a driver must accept new passengers at bus stops? I think not by the number of times full buses speed past the hapless on lower 16th Streets if a stop is not requested.

Then, Miss S1 Bus Driver, stop telling us to move back. Get a spine, tell riders trying to board that the bus is full. Full of wet passengers and wetter rain.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Three weeks ago, we contacted the Fenty, Cropp and Johns campaigns for responses to ten questions. This week, we’re going to publish the responses that we were given. So far, only Councilman Adrian Fenty (Ward 3) has given us his answers. We’ll publish the rest as we receive them. Without further ado…

MBDC: Why do you want to be the Mayor of DC?

Adrian Fenty: I believe we can be much better. Government, like business, is about follow-through, responsiveness, attention to detail. That’s what I do.

MBDC: What sets you apart from other the other candidates running for Mayor?

AF: I have the energy and vision to transform the District of Columbia into a world-class City.

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

This is my cousin and his friend gang signing their youth. Yes they are both under 21 and the Black Cat marked them as such.

Ain’t that cute?

Now if you think he is “dreamy” like the youngin at my work, and you need a housemate, be sure to comment.

Jose is still couch surfing at my place and I want my life back.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

The Post’s Style on the Go section had an entry for what promises to be the “First Annual Queer Women’s Prom” coming up on September 16th. Revelers will build their memories during a three hours cruise (why does that sound familiar?) on the Spirit of Washington out on the Potomac. “Some” proceeds from the $45 fee will go to the HIV-AIDS group The Women’s Collective. No mention on any donations going toward buying calendars so the hosts can figure out that they’re about three months late on prom season. Also odd is the over-21 restriction – I’m all for gay teens being allowed to spend too much money on ugly rented formalwear and cram 10+ into a hideous white limo, but at what point do you declare yourself too old to be hung up on that anymore?

Maybe the majority of attendees will be -way- over 21 and getting the experience they felt excluded from back in the day. If they really want to give them the proper experience they should declare 50% of them unable to rent hotel rooms (because of being under 18) and force them to beg and plead with others to do it for them. All should be forced to get their alcohol by asking others to purchase it for them with about one in four having their supposed benfactor run off with their money. I’m not sure how the promoters can guarantee that any sex any of them have that night be brief, fumbling, and unsatisfying.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Looking at the Bomb Lady’s sign today, I noticed that she’s been protesting since 1981. Thats 25 years of ineffectual efforts.

Asking her what day she started, so I could celebrate her physical manifestation of our freedom of speech, I got a curt reply.

No celebrating when the world is still doomed by doomsday bombs.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I keep a small bottle of advil in my shoulderbag, but on my way up to the security line I worried – even if they’re actually pills, is a label loudly proclaiming LIQUID going to be like waving a red flag under the bull of airport security?

I should have been more worried about properly empting my pockets when I checked my luggage – I forgot to remove my 2 inch pocketknife, which they took from me. I’d been told – wrongly – that the guidelines had changed and a penknife that small was acceptable. Nope. “Scissors up to 4 inches, no knives.”

That makes sense somewhere I’m sure – after all, if I attack someone with my approved scissors or knitting needles we want to make sure I can reach their brain. The cruddy little 1.5″ knife on my knife would seriously scratch someone at the worst.

The positive side of the story is that when I couldn’t get the molecularly-bonded packet of peanuts pretzels open, no matter how hard I struggled, I still had my ibuprofin to dull the tension headache.

Perhaps I’ll re-purchase my knife it when it’s auctioned off.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs