Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Symptoms of Society

Here's my DC tour guide tip of the day; The Smithsonian Folk-Life Festival while good in theory, actually exists of Jesus music barely disguised as acoustic rock, some information about NASA and a few hot dog stands. Spending an hour or two in the Air and Space museum waiting for rain to pass goes by a lot faster when you purchase a deck of "Washington DC" playing cards which can be found in the gift shop on the 1st floor. After all the anticipation I was somewhat unimpressed with DC's fireworks display. I don't know if FL just has better pyro, or if I'm spoiled by a certain unnamed theme parks spectacular display. The whole experience of being on the hill and sitting on the lawn in front of the capitol building was good and I think if you have the chance you should do it once. I'm not kidding when I say unimpressive fireworks though:


See?

My only major complaint of the night; when a man with a Virginia license plate try to intentionally hit me with his car. Yes. While crossing the street (along with hundreds of other people) well within the cross walk and with at least 30 seconds left on the "walk" signal, this man tried to hit me and quite a few others with his car, and when unsuccessful he attempted to reach out of his car window and hit me with his hand. I can't even make this shit up. I was so shocked. Of course as soon as FSU saw this and tried to grab him the guy drove off yelling obscenities. Why would anyone intentionally drive into a crowd of pedestrians on any day, let alone Independence Day?

I have discovered that people are at least 75% morons. My new favorite metro past time is watching grown men and women run at full speed, in suits and heels and all types of professional wear while carrying briefcases and purses and lunch bags, and then just barely miss the train and nearly slamming into the doors as they close. Whats the rush? There is another train in a few minutes. You look ridiculous. Why is everyone so obsessed with work and the 9-5. If I am 10 minutes late, no one notices. I think these people should calm down.

Speaking of metro sitings, I think maybe I should start a weekly posting entitled just that. last week I wished vehemently that I had a camera phone because I saw the worlds worst/best mullet ever. It was a woman, early 40's wearing a full on 80's power suit and a 40/60 mullet. Bleached blond. I almost asked her why.

Then to top off the weeks worth of societal bullshit, I got a lovely phone call from a donor at work today. A man who contributes at the lowest level possible, who felt the need to launch into a 15 minute tirade about mailings and not getting a thank you letter for his contribution (which I am 99% sure he actually did get) and of course it's all my fault. People like this have never worked in retail, or any service industry for that matter. I should start gearing my career towards database management and/or grant writing. You know what though, when major donors get upset, you feel as though they have a right to it. Maybe that says more about our appreciation than the donation makers attitude.
Lastly, I ventured out to Adams Morgan for the first time this past weekend, and I greatly enjoyed it. We hit up Reef for a quick drink, but the lack of AC and presence of one mccreepster led us to Tryst across the street. That is where we discovered this little treat;

Yes! A place that serves dessert, drinks, coffee and has a plethora of comfy couches.

Here's a birds eye view from the rooftop at Reef:


Stay tuned, I also joined the gym, and discovered Old Town Alexandria. A slice of upper-middle class heaven. The hunt for a two bedroom townhouse that has washer and dryer and hardwood floors that creak endearingly begins. Or.. you may find me in Columbia Heights/Capitol Hill/under a bridge/on Teeny's couch. Only time will tell, and time runs out September 1st.
~Z

1 comment:

Teeny said...

Me and my couch would be thrilled to have you.

I, too, am in search of house with a washer/dryer and hardwood floors that creak endearingly. Minus creepy basements and the ghosts that inevitably accompany them.