The bloggers in New Orleans have done nothing short of an amazing job keeping track of what’s going on as New Orleans continues to suffer blow after blow in the wake of the hurricane. As things get worse, we’d like to lend a helping hand, and we hope that our readers might do the same.

We’re encouraging donations to the American Red Cross, and you can click on the button at right to go to the Amazon Donation page for the American Red Cross.

If you’d like to use the image at right for your own site, please feel free to use the following code:

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We’re not alone today, asking for your help and donations, Glenn Reynolds is coordinating other blogging relief efforts today, and there are the following Technorati Tags:

Technorati Tags: flood aid, Hurricane Katrina

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I will begin this sorry tale by saying: “It was my fault I got towed, I parked in the lot.”

Tiff and I are regulars at Boulevard Woodgrill down on Wilson Blvd in Clarendon, we usually go once a week or so for a nice dinner, but parking is always an issue. With very few street spaces, exorbitant garages and lots patrolled by evil evil towing companies, it’s not exactly a pleasure. Usually, though, we have taken advantage of the lot next to Hunan Number One, because it is convenient, and rarely towed. In fact, before tonight, I’ve been parking there for two years without a trouble.

What changed tonight?

The car you see above and to the right, VA plates JTN-1568. Occupied by two kids from the local high school who had neither the image nor the drug test results to work at such an august organization as McDonald’s or Wal*Mart, the Towing Company was alerted to my presence shortly after we departed the car. Of course, they’re on the take from Towing 247 who is to patrol the lot, but most likely under the table. As we arrived at their Ballston lot to pick up the car, I asked the two girls who were working there how much they paid the kids. The one who took my $100 and provided no change (the tow was $95), denied it, but her white trash coworker said “Oh they get paid enough.”

We returned to the lot to snap this picture and trade barbs with the two stoners in the parking lot. Watch out for this license plate. Watch out for two kids in a beat up grey Hyundai with nothing better to do that call in the tow truck dublin comnpany.

What I want to know is…

Whose parking space was I taking tonight? Big Belly Deli? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize they were open that late. Hunan One? I have never seen more than six people inside that restaurant. But yet, they towed me. What does this mean? I’ll never go to either of those places, and I’ll be much less likely to go to Clarendon for dinner anymore. At least in Courthouse, they don’t tow your car.

What burns me up is this:

1. The towing companies pay these kids to call in their tows.
2. This only hurts business in the area.

Unethical, I say. Unethical.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Over the last few days, I’ve found myself nearly in tears at my desk over what’s been happening in New Orleans. The damage, the loss, the whole thing is a nightmare on top of a nightmare. I’ve given to Red Cross, I’ve given to the collection for my weekly poker game, but I just keep looking for other ways to help out.

We’ve got a contingent of brave souls down in the city, blogging about the tragedy that their city has succumbed to, watching the looting, watching the mess, watching the water slowly drain back out of their streets. Writing to us about it, because they feel it’s important. It’s likely they’ve lost their homes. It’s likely they’ve lost their property, perhaps their jobs, perhaps their family, perhaps their pets. We, as a network, wanted to do something to help our friends down there. If you feel inclined, click that t-shirt and grab yourself a nice t-shirt from cafepress. All proceeds, all proceeds, are going to our writers down there and their loved ones and friends.

There is a quote on my wall at work, one I stare at every day as a reminder to my humanity:

“Since you cannot do good to all, you are to pay special attention to those who by accidents of time, or place, or circumstance, are brought into closer connection with you.” — Saint Augustine

Buy a shirt, it’s been a while since you’ve had a new one, anyhow.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Sidney, you be a knight in Aruba, but to us, you’re just another bum:

The Baltimore Orioles placed troubled pitcher Sidney Ponson on unconditional release waivers Thursday and moved to terminate his contract, ending his tumultuous second tenure with the club.

Take your drunk ass on home, now.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Breaking News

There is a bomb scare downtown – bystanders say there was a bomb threat called in to 1133 15th Street, 11th floor.

DC Police have evactuated the area.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Huh. I get this from DC alerts, yet it

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

As news continues to come in from New Orleans and surrounds, and things continue to get worse, a story from one of our writers in New Orleans, now safe in Memphis:

At this point it’s pretty clear that nothing will be left when, and if, we return. Right now water is probably up to the roof of our Mid-City house, which I bought last year. Knowing this, the questions in my head are about the future of my job, where I will stay if I choose to return, and of course, how long it will be before any sense of normalcy returns to my life. It will probably be years. I’m seriously considering the option of giving it all up and starting anew somewhere else. Given the heartache that’s going to follow, and the reality that a repeat of this event could happen someday, it’s something worth thinking about.

WWL is reporting that residents of Jefferson Parish may not be allowed back in for over a month:

Residents will probably be allowed back in town in a week, with identification only, but only to get essentials and clothing. You will then be asked to leave and not come back for one month.

Can you imagine Fairfax County blocked off for over a month?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

We may be getting soaked in a bit thanks to the storm-formerly-known-as-Hurricane-Katrina, but the folks down in the Big Easy are still trying to drain their city from several feet of water. DCist pointed out this benefit happy hour happening on Thursday:

DC JazzFest Happy Hour
To help raise money for victims of Hurricane Katrina
Thursday September 1, 2005
6pm – 9pm
MCCXXIII Lounge
1223 Connecticut Avenue, NW
Washington, D.C. 20036
$25 (includes a Premium Liquor Open Bar and music)

If you’re feeling like you should lend a hand, and drinking is your fort

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This morning I felt a wave of nostalgia as I watched the yellow-slickered crossing guard shepherd little kids in their uniforms across the street to Garrison Elementary. As usual I was waiting for the bus, sighing at the prospect of another dreary day at work. Maybe it was the contrast between the guard’s maternally bright smile and the gloomy overcast skies, but it’s funny how you can feel nostalgia for school where once you felt apprehensive dread…

Good luck this year, kids!

(and for someone as ZPG as me to say that, you know I’m suffering from serious sentimentality overload!)

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

There are all kinds of regional sandwiches- the cheesesteak, the Primanti’s sammich (pictured here), the po’ boy, assorted varieties of barbecue between bread, etc.

We were pondering last night (between rounds of an entirely too long pub quiz) that there is no real sandwich culture in DC. Our culinary options are man- some celebrity chef whose name escapes me once said that while there are more restaurants per capita in New York City, DC has more different kinds of food than almost anywhere else. But they tend toward either the diverse and ethnic, or the paid-for-by-lobbyists.

Meanwhile, my trip to Primanti’s in my hometown this weekend has left me pining for a good sandwich. Suggestions?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

The levee has been breached in New Orleans and the city is under water. Biloxi, MS is covered in water, mud, and debris. Dozens of people have lost their lives and thousands have likely lost their homes.

But the worst we’re going to see here is some severe storms tonight and tomorrow. So it’s time to pony up to help, people. The Post provides a handy list of organizations in need of money for Katrina relief.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Ever since Meetup.com went for-pay, the world’s been short a good way to handle good group meetings, but no longer. As of today, Upcoming.org supports groups!

Go join our Upcoming.org group!

We’ll be having a Happy Hour next week that once it’s scheduled will go into the group. We hope to see all our readers there!

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Back in the day, before Internet jukeboxes, you knew the kinda tunes you’d hear in a bar. You know what was in its jukebox and could rest assured you’d hear tunes to your liking while you’re drinking. I miss those days.

I miss them much since I’m sitting in the Big Hunt right now and someone has a serious love of seriously depressing country music tunes. These songs of wives and dogs leaving men, and them missing the dogs are killing my mood. I’m not talking Johnny Cash here, but some current swill who is polluting my ears. Please folks, if you wanna hear country, go to Remington’s.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

That’s it. That does it. After six months of crap signal, Comcast is out. Everyone’s comments on their RCN experience helped, but its today’s struggle with Cloak and Dagger that put me over the top.

The classic 80’s movie is coming in like poo, with the signal dying every five-ten minutes, right at the good parts. I wanna see little Davey Osborne outsmart the bad guys & the tear jerk ending where Jack Flack turns out to be Dad better not get Comcasted!

To help ya, Comcasted = unwatchable pixilation like on Morris here.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

It’s not every day you walk by a window office and see a giant rat staring at you from the sidewalk. Intrigued, I abandoned my window-less cave and headed for 13th St. Sure enough, there was a line of protestors chanting and screaming in unison about the poor standards of Tri-Con Construction.

These did not look like carpenters. They looked like a bunch of people that were assembled willy-nilly off the street and offered a chance to protest-for-food.

But apparently that didn’t matter to the Mid-Atlantic Regional Council of Carpenters, they just needed people to draw attention to their cause by raising a ruckus on 13th St.

I have to ask, though, where exactly does one find a giant inflatible rat? I mean, surely DC is the obvious choice for such a location, what with all our lobbyists, lawyers, and politicians, but who thought this up? Where can you rent a giant rat? I totally want to park one in front of a certain apartment complex…

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

As I was waiting for the bus to go home yesterday, a tall man asked me if the 66 had passed yet.

I should have known instantly from his eyes, but I was tired.

So when he struck up a conversation with me, I half-heartedly responded. He was wearing a lightweight Indian-style shirt and joked that he dressed like that to freak out tourists into thinking he was a terrorist. Whatever. I yawned. Checked my text messages. He’s quite handsome, I thought, but a little too intense.

And then, it finally kicked in.

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There’s an infielder at AAA New Orleans chasing after a nearly 45 year old record; his name is Rick Short, and he’s pushing the .400 mark. In 1961, Aaron Pointer hit .401 for the season, the last minor-leaguer to do it. As of yesterday, Rick Short is hitting .389, but he’s got several games left against the hapless Iowa Cubs, which could put him over the top. There’s a great article on Rick in yesterday’s Post. Part of me wants to let him stay in New Orleans to finish the season and break the 44 year drought, but part of me thinks we ought to send down Cristian Guzman for a while and give Rick a chance.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

I nearly broached the first rule of the Metro this morning: I nearly spoke to the passengers around me. I came in later than usual this morning, hopping the 7 toward the Pentagon after construction began on my bathroom renovation. A four car blue line train arrived shortly after I did, and it was off into the city. That’s when I saw her. A lovely woman in her late twenties, about four or five months pregnant. Standing in the aisle. With four well-dressed gentlemen seated.

People, it may be August, there may be fewer people in town than usual, and Congress is out of session, hell even the President’s on vacation, but there is NO EXCUSE for a gentleman to be seated on the Metro when a pregnant woman is standing. None. The four of you in the aisle seats just around yourself should be ashamed of yourselves. Worse still, when a lady got up, ostensibly to allow the pregnant woman to be seated, another bozo in a suit took the vacant seat.

What the fuck, people. I mean, I really want to know, what the fuck? Can you tell me what the fuck?

But no, I stayed silent, shooting disapproving glares to all the suits in the aisle seats. I hope karma gave you food poisoning, you discourteous fops.

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs

Today everyone at work is talking about the Capitol Lounge burning down, and they all seem to have a personal connection or story about their glory days there.

In my fifteen years or so of living here, I’ve actually never been inside the place. Nothing purposeful about that, really, it just never happened.

So I starting thinking about Capitol Hill in general, and how I just don’t ever go there anymore – to eat, to drink, whatever. Then I realized, with a bit of a shock, that all my memories of that area are negative, many quite painful.

So here are my Top Five Reasons I Don’t Go to The Hill:

1) I told my boss I was leaving the company at Cafe Berlin, and she started to cry into her lunchtime spritzer.

2) I started temping at Pardoe on Pennsylvania Avenue the same day a story broke about their possible racial discrimination, and had to handle all the violent incoming calls.

3) My then-boyfriend got into a brawl at Hawk & Dove on St. Patrick’s Day, and later was pulled over for DUI. Needless to say, he wasn’t Irish.

4) Being told “I love you” at Two Quail, and realizing I couldn’t say it back.

5) Totalling my car into a cab on Constitution.

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Walter Reed Army Medical Center will be closing after the Base Realignment Committee voted to move its jobs outside the Beltway. Those 9,000 jobs will be sent to Quantico, Fort Belvoir, Fort Meade, and the Bethesda Naval Hospital. Though concerns were raised about the increased traffic due to 9,000 additional drivers, the base hospital was not saved. There’s still a chance to save the base in its entirety, but that would require President Bush to actually Veto something, which he’s yet to do in his 4+ years in office.

BRAC has yet to rule on the DoD jobs in Northern Virginia inside the Beltway.

So, what now? What do you do with a closed military hospital? My condo community (ugly website alert) was built out of old military housing and is some of the last “cheap” real estate in Arlington County. Could we do the same sort of thing, create a residential community in DC with that land?

This post appeared in its original form at DC Metblogs