It’s the day before Thanksgiving (as if you didn’t know that!), a time that shouldn’t be just gut-busting consumption but also a time to gratefully reflect… so I thought I might kick it off with an ode to four unsung heroes of my day.

1) The crosswalk guard at the corner of 11th and S. This fearless lady is out there every morning striking fear into the hearts of recklessly fast drivers as she makes the intersection safe for the schoolkids of Garrison Elementary. She does it all with a smile and a wave for everyone and never seems to be in a bad mood, no matter how many drivers try to get past her eagle eye. They never suceed, and the kids are always safe.

2) The most dedicated Metrobus driver on the road, piloting the last 66 bus to get downtown before 9am. This gentleman is always cheerful, always helpful, and his passengers are happy to carry on the conversations he starts with ease and grace. A civilized way to start the day.

3) The long-suffering janitor in my building. He’s still here, even after that disgusting incident. He deserves more from his tenants.

4) The red-coated BID representative usually patrolling the block around Metro Center and my building. I don’t know how many clueless tourists he’s directed or panicked lost business people he’s calmed with a smile. Almost every night I pass him on my way to the bus stop home, and every time there’s a smile and a “good night honey.”

Seeing these four people almost every day makes me feel a little better, knowing there are still people in this city for whom civility and kindness matter. Cheers folks, you’re my unsung heroes.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

If you were sitting at the security desk an saw a guy walk by without shoes on a cold day, would you ask questions? I might.

The guy at the security desk at the building at 15th and K started to do just that. Except the guy ran for the elevator, made it to the 8th floor, took off all his clothes, then broke the window and jumped.

This one is just wacky. Way too much questions. We’ll keep you up to date on the answers, though.

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Welcome to the newest Metblog, and one of the further from us, Vancouver! Tempting indeed to go out and ski at Whistler, but for now, I’ll welcome them from afar!

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While you’re surfing Craigslist for Butterstick passes, don’t forget to check out the personals. There you can find a man who will give you more than a pass for your Rosy Palms and her five sisters. We’re talking literate men who can express themselves, like this 4,000 word manifesto about your & his “jobs” in this relationship. Here’s a snippet of his brilliance:

Now in exchange for me doing my job well and keeping our relationship alive and well, you will have to do your part as well. If one of us fails to perform his/her role, the arrangement crumbles and I become an asshole and/or you become a nagging bitch. I know. I have seen it on TV, in the grocery store on a Saturday morning, in restaurants etc… It’s all around us. All the couples fighting – where you can just feel their bitter energy and you know they are doomed – that

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Local Wizards Blog Wizznutzz may be as crazy as their name suggests, but damned if that ain’t my kind of crazy.

We’re coming up on a year after the crazy Ron Artest riot in the stands, and Wizznutzz has drawn up the awesome Aubernica remix of the Picasso classic.

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Apparently, the panda tickets are so valuable, they’re now being traded for sexual favors. Sadly, the original Craig’s List ad was taken down by the community, but Wonkette was already there (how’d she find the ad? I’ll leave that to your imagination…), and boy is it depraved:

If you can get me a ticket to see Tai Shan between now and December 30, I will (I can’t believe I am saying this) give you a handjob, with my hands. Maybe, if you are cute, a BJ. I am serious about this. I really want to see this panda.

Folks, no panda is worth selling your dignity. Not at all. That’s just fucked up.

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Team Sentient Sailboats, a nod to our fine Cloudmaker guests, was victorious last night at Four Courts Pub Quiz. Though Wayan figured out how to text Google, we needed no such oracle other than LA Metblogger Jay Bushman and his rockstar girlfriend Bronwen, who lended serious aid on the film round. Despite the protests of a loud bunch of New Yorkers that perhaps thought they were our equal (but proved to be otherwise), it was a great night at the Courts, lots of people packing that half of the bar. They’re going to finish the trivia season big this year, with $800+ in prizes on the 12th of December, so come on out and take us on!

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Say you’re at the Wonderland Ballroom on a Monday night. Its Monday Night Trivia Fight, and your team, Now + Later Alligator is down by 15-20 points. The questions are getting harder yet you are getting drunker. How can you rescue your team from dead last you think? Here is your path to salvation – Google SMS

Yes, Google SMS will save you. When asked the population of Mexico, send the text message “population of Mexico” to 46645 (GOOGL on most phones). Seconds later, you’ll know its 106 million.

With this cool backup tool, your team too can stage a great comeback, from dead last loosers to solid crappy bottom third in three rounds or less. Power to the Google!

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Neighborhood listserv’s can be an interesting way to learn about happenings around you. They can also be a means to find help or a job. Today’s hot job on the Adams Morgan listserv comes courtesy of “carn1fex” who asks:

can anyone recommend a good honest chimney sweep around here?

No word on if you need to be an orphan boy or if you’ll get more porridge upon asking.

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So, when they first sold us on the new stadium for the Nationals, they said the stadium construction would cost $244 million. That’s a good chunk of change, but the city said okay. Well, now it’s $337 Million. First the land was $77.1M, now it’s $100M. Of course, how are we handling this? By cutting infrastructural needs around the stadium area: roads, metro, all of these will have to be paid for separately.

Chris Needham says:

Fat cat lobbyists, rest easy! Your precious pleasure dome isn’t being sacrificed! You’re still getting 78 luxury boxes stacked neatly in two rows to raise the riff-raff in the upper deck further away from your important business meetings (even though the Stadium Agreement asked for just 74). And you’re still getting your 3,000 club seats, so you can lay back in your leather chairs having young black kids from the ghetto give you all the hotdogs you can jam into your gullet for a few bucks an hour.

I love the Nats, I really do, but this stadium situation is turning into a nightmare.

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“This is what our heaven looks like,” we murmured upon entering Oyster Riot X, greeted by rows upon rows of gleaming oysters. The gentleman in front of us turned and smiled, and nodded in mutual bliss.

Heavenly it may be, but nerves of steel are required to survive the Old Ebbitt’s Oyster Riot. With 20 varietals of oysters (some 2,000 total), 10 award-winning wines, and 400 wine contenders, not to mention waiters passing around such delicacies are oysters wrapped in bacon, oysters rockerfeller, fried oyster stew, and more, it was an amazing display of decadence and I can’t believe my friend and I survived the night.

Simply put, we’re oyster freaks. We’ve been known to put back four dozen at Oceanaire. Each. As a New Englander I was practically weaned on oysters. My friend Gina is allergic to all shellfish except the delectable oyster, sending her into complete paroxysms of delight when she sees one. So this event was to be our Nirvana…

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Having never been out to FedEx Field (tickets are a racket, I swear!), I can’t confirm or deny the conditions that are in this morning’s Post:

One man was so wobbly by the second quarter that he toppled forward two rows, spilling beer on Leslie Weightman of Gaithersburg and digging his knee into the back of her husband, Jim. And leather-lung louts screamed obscenities against the Oakland Raiders until their voices were almost shot.

So, apparently there’s a problem in the stands. I never saw conditions quite like this at RFK, except for one Cubs fan who had clearly had too much and was heaping abuse…on his own squad. Is it really that bad out in Redskins Land?

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As belated birthday gift, my friend Dawn wanted to take me out for… something, she didn’t know what. Lately, I’ve been feeling like I spend all my time in front of the computer or on the phone and have been sort of itching to make a physical something, so we settled on mosaics at Clay Cafe in Falls Church.

On Saturdays after 6 PM, studio time is half price, and the only other cost is the price of the project you’re making, all of which are very reasonably priced (sake set for $18! including the glazing and kiln-firing!) We got there and were momentarily disturbed to notice that we were the only adults there not accompanied by children. Everything in the room seemed to be designed for wee people. But the woman attending the studio that night concealed any surprise she might have felt at the sight of two jaded quarterlifers eyeing the mosaic projects, and got us all set up.

Dawn went for a square tile mosaic to replace the top of a table that was broken in our move here from Pittsburgh a few years ago, and I chose a house number plaque for the front of our condo.

It was therapeutic to spend a couple of hours carefully arranging little bits of glass and gluing them into place while catching up on each others’ lives. We had to watch ourselves, though, seeing as how we were sitting within inches of a group of 8 year olds and some of our conversational topics were, um, less than appropriate for young ears.

We’ll be doing this again sometime soon- maybe pottery painting next time.

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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.

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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?

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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!

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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?

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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