Archive for September, 2012

Positively 4th St.

My boyfriend is awesome!

Hi! I keep looking out the window because Ash and I have plans to go out on a boat cruise tonight for happy hour and I want the weather to hold. It will mark the first time I’ve been on the water since I moved here and that’s just unacceptable. Especially since I grew up coming here for the summer and hanging out on my g-pa’s boat and yet haven’t been able to cruise the Potomac over the last few years. Hopefully that oversight will be corrected this evening. I think we’re going to try to hit J. Paul’s for dinner after since we generally have good luck with getting a table there. Beerfest is tomorrow and then the DAWGS play the Vols. To my Vol family: you know I love you. I hope we beat the stink off you. Especially in light of that weird alcohol enema thing. What the hell was that? Anyway, moving on because I just saw a dude shoot himself in the head on Fox News. Yes, you heard that correctly. Dear Lord.

So, something’s been occurring to me: Angry people are mean. I’m really sorry you don’t like yourself or your parents or you had a bad hair day or are just incapable of realizing that you don’t have it all that bad when considering that there are people in the world who can’t walk or hear or lose their children to disease or live in abject poverty. But I get that it’s totally reasonable for you to be this much of a prick/bitch out of frustration. It’s kinda sad though. This is also sad (from my recent reading):

Pathological envy – the second deadly sin – is a compounded emotion. It is brought on by the realisation of some lack, deficiency, or inadequacy in oneself. It is the result of unfavourably comparing oneself to others: to their success, their reputation, their possessions, their luck, their qualities. It is misery and humiliation and impotent rage and a tortuous, slippery path to nowhere. The effort to break the padded walls of this self-visited purgatory often leads to attacks on the perceived source of frustration.

There is a spectrum of reactions to this pernicious and cognitively distorting emotion:

Subsuming the Object of Envy through Imitation

Some narcissists seek to imitate or even emulate their (ever changing) role models. It is as if by imitating the object of his envy, the narcissist becomes that object. So, narcissists are likely to adopt their boss’ typical gestures, the vocabulary of a successful politician, the dress code of a movie star, the views of an esteemed tycoon, even the countenance and actions of the (fictitious) hero of a movie or a novel.

In his pursuit of peace of mind, in his frantic effort to alleviate the burden of consuming jealousy, the narcissist often deteriorates to conspicuous and ostentatious consumption, impulsive and reckless behaviours, and substance abuse.

Destroying the Frustrating Object

Other narcissists “choose” to destroy the object that gives them so much grief by provoking in them feelings of inadequacy and frustration. They display obsessive, blind animosity and engage in a compulsive acts of rivalry often at the cost of self-destruction and self-isolation.

Okay, other things and stuff while I continue to meditate on seeking out people who aren’t like the above few paragraphs. My friend Charlie says that for someone so opinionated I do let people shit on me more than he would expect. He thinks I need to channel my inner buddha. I keep telling him that being sassy doesn’t mean I’m hard-hearted. But I do have a line. Once when I was in elementary school there was a girl who picked on me every day because she was a little rich girl and I wore my sister’s (and brother’s. I know…) hand-me-downs. She made fun of me every day for months. Actually, it was a full year. Until one day I snapped. I have a clear memory of sitting on her chest slapping her in the face, crying the whole time. Seriously, it was just like that scene in A Christmas Story. God Bless my recess teacher. He knew the score and covered for me. I wish other people that I trusted to do that would do the same. But then I guess if there’s nothing in it for some people you can’t expect them to be decent. Digressing. :

On that same subject, do you see yourself here? Is that good?

I really want to go to this…

Found out recently that my Pops was in plays in high school. You’re in good company George…

Remy hits the nail on the head again. Look for the Nyan Cat.

My cousin posted this recipe from the homeland
— well, the language is Polish but is REALLY close to the Slovak my g-ma spoke so…Anyway, it looks delicious and I’m going to try it.


Stella. Miss you girl.

Alexander. I’ll see you later buddy.

So, this looks pretty good. Dig the soundtrack.:

Awesome idea for no slip socks I sent my sis-in-law (the Vol who will lose tomorrow). She liked it and that made me very happy.

So, if I recall, the Hispanic Leadership Fund (good group of people there) has some data that suggests that low-income folks actually DO have cell phones en masse. They prefer to spend their resources on cell phones over traditional computer equipment or even bill payments like cable, etc. In other words, it is erroneous to suggest they NEED this “important program.” Will people take a free phone? Sure. And speculation around the office is that they may be able to offset their minutes through some handy-dandy, newly enabled and legal, text-message donations. Brilliant. Also, creepy.

I’m in love with this.


My friend Connors has a knack for the sportswriting.

Final thought: life ebbs and flows and some days are good and others have a little rain. But find joy in the fact that you do not take joy in the misery of others and you do not feel the need to trample others underfoot in order to feel powerful and in control. And that you have zero use for commas.

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I think I’ll be making this. But I’m putting a big pocket on the front…

So, I’ll be watching baseball later. October should be interesting in our nation’s capital for this Braves fan…

Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes.

I’ve been reading quite a bit about narcissism lately because, before I moved to DC, I knew maybe one or two seriously, pathologically malignant narcissists. I’ve increased that number by 5. And I’ve watched at least one person I knew turn into one. He always had the tendency — hell, I have the tendency — but he turned that corner some time ago in pursuit of status and money and social mobility. How do I know it’s malignant? Because he brags about his skills as a manipulator like it’s something to be emulated and admired for. It’s sort of like watching these larval American Psychos slither out of their pods. Blergh. And I think DC just fosters that kind of thing. It’s not easy to be righteous in a town like this. Even some of the best people do ethically questionable things and the weak either assimilate or run away. And if it’s assimilation then it must be classified strength rather than weakness because the narcissist will have none of that kind of less-than-sexy designation. Sad really. But I don’t care. I can turn corners, too.

Tra-la-la….*skipping away*

So, my uber liberal friend Charlie sent the following to the Coach and myself today:

Charlie: I wish that I could have been there with you to see [this] if you would have just combusted instantly or launched like a rocket out of the roof of the arena. haha My favorite part would have to be the “She then began singing a slow, seductive version of “Like a Virgin” while rolling around on a piano top.”

The Coach: “When Obama is in the White House for a second term I’ll take it all off.” Mitt Romney just got his latest campaign commercial. I just dry-heaved so hard I think I pulled something. No one wants to see your 55 year old boobs and man arms, or what I can only assume is a wrinkly ass. Put them away.

Me: I have nothing to add except I don’t think I trust Madonna’s judgment on anything.

On the topic of whether or not he actually takes another term, there’s this. I pay zero attention to polls — I think they’re bullshit no matter what they say because every statistics class I ever took was essentially a lesson in data [arithmetic?] manipulation. But I like the football metaphor. More people should write like that.

Also on the topic of politics, there’s this. I’ve met Healey and this was a bold statement. I also tend to agree. The Big Boss tackles some of this with the WSJ. It’s why Free Speech counts people…

How much do I love the idea of throwing stuff into a parchment bag and tossing it into an oven for 15 minutes? I like it. A lot.

My sis sent this to me. Dig it.

Now, for your musical selection, via Ali P. with a call for UGA to DO THIS! Pretty solid stuff here.

And, in case you need to be reminded or introduced to how beautiful this piece of music is, I post this again. I really, really love this piece. And not only for the show. It stands on its own as wonderful.

Also, unfortunately my recollection of this did not help me be awesome at trivia last week. But I remembered a lot of the preamble because of this. Schoolhouse RAWK.

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Dark brown voice

This is what my dreams look like frequently. Because I tend to sleep with a cat…

Yo. I’m eager to bounce so I just have some silliness. Also, I keep doing this weird thing where I feel like crying about every 20 minutes or so. Where are we in the moon cycle?

My friend Lina is hosting a shi-shi little thing this evening at her flat by Union Station. So, looking forward to that. Also, I’m getting ready this weekend to start the winter lap routine I used to do back home. They finished renovating this bad boy last year so I’m eager to try it out. And, because it’s part of the DC Parks and Rec, it’s free for residents of the District! Yep yep!

As for other things and stuff, see below. Have a loverly weekend babies.


This guy is fast becoming my new hero.
Also, have you seen the Tesla cars? Someone drives one who lives or works in my building in Old Town and leaves it parked in the underground deck. So metal.

The inimitable Weenie Giggins doing what she does. You can’t see it much here but this lady is a helluva dancer. Last time I broke my foot was in her contemporary class in Georgia. Tough as balls.

Watched this again last night after dance class. Never gets old.

yes, yes, yes, yes…

Music. Huge fan of the Kinks. I discovered them when I was — man, I guess I was under the age of 10. What can I say, I had a million older siblings and there was always music playing in our house…

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That’s the gist of it; because you’ll never be a first-class human being or a first-class woman, until you’ve learned to have some regard for human frailty. It’s a pity your own foot can’t slip a little sometime – but your sense of inner divinity wouldn’t allow that. This goddess must and shall remain intact. There are more of you than people realize – a special class of the American Female. The Married Maidens.

That’s a quote from one of the best movies ever put on celluloid. When I was younger I didn’t quite understand it. Now I do. Lately it’s felt as though all I do anymore is make people angry. And I wonder if I have some of this lesson to learn. Then other times I’m like, “All these assholes behaving badly and I’m going home trying to work out how to keep it from happening when it’s not really my problem. Furthermore, the chances that they feel in any way bad for making me hurt and question myself are about nil. So…”

Little bit of an existential crisis over here really. But I guess I figure that everyone must answer for themselves, at some point along the way. My limited experience has taught me that. And the real tragic cases go for years before everything shifts for them and their decisions begin to bear fruit. And I sometimes want to be there for those people because I know that’s a hard time…but for the most part I’m just too tired to care anymore. I need the toxic gone because it’s slowly poisoning me and I don’t want to end up one of those people who can’t love and can’t forgive. Who doesn’t understand human frailty. So the poison must go. Sad. But only for me. I think my Pops will be pleased to read this…

Other things…

This is wonderful!

I don’t know if I agree because I love them both. But this put me in the mind of a conversation I had with a “friend” just after I moved to DC, a move that — as I’ve said before — was likely what caused my beloved 13-year-old half pit bull/half dalmatian Stella to just give up and go to the great leashless dog park in the sky. This person, as a way to brag that he was, ahem, being kept warm at night or simply to unleash some cruelty so he could feel better about whatever it is that drives someone to be that hateful, (I’ve never been sure) made a comment that the current piece he was seeing had a dog and “Dogs are better than cats!” and it cut like a knife because goddamn I missed my girl. When I expressed that I found this a bit insensitive he snapped, “That’s what this is about?! dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog, dog….”. This is the kind of toxic I’m talking about. I have enough stories like this to bind a book. And I won’t miss hearing shit like this. From anyone. But I do miss my girl. And I’m thinking I will love a little nut again someday. But I can wait…I can wait for the good…Speaking of, there’s this.

Forgive the blurry but I love this pic of us.

Best Hipster neighborhoods according to Forbes. Both the H St. Corridor here in DC and Little 5 in Atlanta made the list. Maybe this is worth a pilgrimage. But it won’t be nearly as fascinating as the trip the dude hosting trivia last night kept saying his usual co-host was currently on: a trip up the East Coast rest stops in search of the best glory hole. “We wish him luck on his quest,” trivia host said.

Next on the list. Rosemary is a great little herb with chicken and I suspect I could make this on the cheap with one of the whole chickens and eat on it for at least a week.

The Killers are playing in December and I think my friend Charlie is going. I’m thinking seriously about trying to get tickets…

Seriously, don’t be this mom. Protein = good. Vegan food tastes like shit. Just admit it.

My friend Julie posted this and it makes good sense. Girl…

This is pretty cool.

New places to try. Some are pretty close to me so I can walk!

Been told this is worth seeing.

If you haven’t seen this yet it’s pretty good for a laugh and serves as today’s musical selection.

Going dancing tonight. Dance class is always worthwhile. And then Saturday Ash and I have the baseball game and an after-game concert with Dierks Bentley, which should be cool. As I’ve mentioned in the past, the consummate Jersey Girl Ash loves country music. I know right? Hopefully we can make it up to the Hill to watch the DAWGS bring it on home. Things to look forward to…

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First, hopefully last, flag football injury. My friend Cline’s is way worse. Also, we’re getting creamed but we’re building…

Hey there. Recently, a friend of mine told me I think too much. With no disrespect intended to my friend who is a nice man and who meant well and has shown me great loyalty in the past when a mean girl (more on that below) was attempting to do some real damage and probably was thwarted a bit thanks to aforementioned loyalty and I love him for it, I have to make a case for why this may actually be a good thing. What’s hilarious about this is 1. he said it as if I haven’t heard this same thing 800,000 times since grade school and 2. as if it’s not something I constantly struggle with because I, too, long for those days years ago when I thought less and acted more quickly and made horrible, glorious, life-altering mistakes that were dangerous and sexy and funny and wretched and soul-wrenching and amazing.

Let me start by saying that I’ve always been “paid” to think too much. Once I was identified at a very young age a thinker, people expected it of me. And currently, it drives what I do for a living so I am, quite literally, paid to think too much. There was a short time relatively speaking from the age of 17 to about 25 or 26 when I went to college and was involved with my first serious long-term, live-in boyfriend and I just freaked out and renounced my religion and my principles and became sexually active and didn’t care if the guy I was seeing was a nice man or a real user. I got a lot meaner then, and wanted what I was ENTITLED to have. And I was horrible to other women and I treated men like dirt and I basically lied about who I was and what I wanted in the pursuit of the win and ALL THE FUN!

Damn I was a mess.

And so now, yes, I carefully consider my decisions and what I want out of life. And yes, it stops me in my tracks sometimes from just rushing headlong into situations that aren’t…um…fully mature. And yes, it makes me sad that I can’t just consider wisdom overrated and let myself be used because sexual conquest is erroneously considered some kind of trophy. But only sometimes. Because now…well, I want something more. I want something finer. I don’t want to be yelled at or manipulated by someone who understands my insecurities well enough to exploit them to control me. I want someone who will protect me from people who try to do that. And in order to have that, I’m pretty sure you have to be smart and careful in your decisions. And not spend a lot of time wasted on those who can’t provide that. Also, pretty sure sexiness starts in the mind so, I love you my friend, but I’m going to keep thinking until I find someone worth being a little stupid over.

As for mean girls, it came on this weekend (signs!) and there was one part that resonated with me again: she has to “suck the poison out of her life” at the end. By apologizing to Regina, hanging with the mathletes instead of going to the dance (no problem there. I hang out with them every day. The wonder kids.), making amends to the people she’s hurt. I’m pretty sure I need to do that, too. But I don’t know where to start…

Anyway, I’m going to embrace this a little more in the future. Fair warning.

It’s all true.

This song is some joy on a rainy day.

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The gathering beauty

I went looking for beauty today because what’s happening overseas is troubling and that way lies madness. Pops says his concern is the breach of security of state info and what appears to be a breakdown in our intelligence field. My concern is that our Secretary of State and President seemed legitimately surprised by the fact that our Ambassador was murdered and dragged out and photographed. It’s as if they didn’t know who they were dealing with. In any event, as their state memorial plays on the news in front of me, I’m going to reserve comment until I can process a few things. But I’ll say this much: whitewashing the way things went down is neither advisable nor smart. Anyway, I’m going to Irish Whiskey and having whiskey later and raising a glass to those who stand on that wall. Wish I could do more. But, as the Coach reminded me the other day, playing in our flag football games this weekend, watching our DAWGS play tomorrow, having a beer with friends, kissing and loving on the people we choose to do those things with, THAT’s what we do to honor the fallen who provide us the umbrella under which we are secure in those actions. And so, for them, I will carry on with joy.


The three youngest. My favorite picture of us. Perfectly captures our personalities. See how Dan looks scared? It’s because he knows…

They always are.

Old Town waterfront never disappoints.

Should have married you Greg. Of course, after 5 years we would have just laughed and been like, “okay, joke’s over!” But still. 5 years of fun for sure.

Dig it.

I could have this in my house without being annoyed by it.

How much do I want to dance this?

Brilliant. (h/t Noah Kristula-Green)

Hooray! We’re not all Honey Boo Boo Children down there ya know…(h/t Mr. Mack)

I’ve seen almost all of these — cuz I’m all cultured and shit — and really couldn’t agree more.

Yes please. Seriously, the sourdough never loses that flavor it has, no matter what you do with it.

And, for your drink, here’s some deliciousness perfect for the increasing chill in the air.

How I wish this were true…

This works in my opinion.
I do it at least once a week and the results are pretty appealing.

Bob Dylan is still a badass. And he wrote this. So many people over the years I’d like to dedicate this to…

And, just along those same lines, this was on the other day. Colin Firth, you will forever be Mr. Darcy to me.

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Hi! So, check out this champion (photo credit Tammy Barton Lee):

Just finished my letter to him and will drop it in the mail on my way home, which will be shortly because I want to take advantage of this weather and go for a run. I’ll have a little more work to do this evening but it’s worth it and will keep me sane following the flag football ref test I have to take later. Seriously, it’s like the hardest thing I’ll do all year. Okay, that’s an exaggeration but it IS hard…But after I think I may try to watch this. 9/11 stuff is never easy to watch but this just seems important…

So, I have some thoughts on the extreme negativity of people who refuse to acknowledge that the world (and life) is quite perfectly ordered if they just stay out of the way and quit causing havoc in their own lives out of boredom. But I’ll save that for another time because it saddens me to think (and write) of it and it’s too pretty out to be sad. So, other things…

Seriously, I think Public Policy Polling (the totally non-biased poll that gives Obama a post-convention bump that has Republicans all in a tizzy) is about as trustworthy as the guy selling “authentic” designer purses at Union Station. This is probably more accurate. But that’s not to say you should think it’s a done deal. Vote people. It’s a good.

Oskar the blind cat is one of the best things going. Make no mistake.

Want so bad! The top is incredible but if that peach skirt is actually leather I’m dying over here…

This is just getting cooler and cooler. I read today that if Curiosity finds water it won’t be allowed near it because it may have Earth-borne bacteria and they don’t want to contaminate the source. Because by God colonization is our future! (I’m kidding. But only partially…)

I still have a ton of frozen blueberries in my freezer so I think I’m going to do something like this this weekend. Also, I used to have a fried chicken recipe that used toasted sourdough breadcrumbs pulsed in a processor with some rosemary and lemon zest. The key was the overnight buttermilk soak. I need to just try that one from memory since I think the recipe was lost in the last move…

So, once again, I was reminded that pathological competition is borne of self-love. And also that it’s pretty ugly.

A Facebook friend posted this and I found it fascinating, primarily because I think one way it manifests — the gamer theme here notwithstanding — is that young women today, in an attempt to “live up to” (or down to more appropriately) to these dudes’ standards do things that should really only be done in the movie The Hangover. But, I guess, you get what you settle for.

So, to tie all these thoughts together, this song providentially came on the shuffle this morning and had me just grinning. Great video, too.

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First and foremost, there’s this. Sometimes I think that old Jon Stewart, the one who existed before he drank his own kool-aid, is still there to be had. And I’d like to meet him again. I really would. This kind of thing gives me hope.

I can’t help but be reminded of one of the best Daily Show investigative reports…

So, I have this thing for Joaquin Phoenix. He’s weird as hell and not quite handsome — kind of short and hairy and clearly, CLEARLY, negatively affected by his youth in that strange cult his parents were part of — but I dig him. A lot. I think he’s crazy hot, painfully talented, and he brings out that mom instinct in me where I just want to put him to bed and check on him every few hours to make sure he’s still breathing. In any event, I’m glad to see he’s back with what’s being already hyped as an Oscar-worthy turn as a disillusioned former member of a cult of personality (reportedly based on Scientology). Now, perhaps it’s not a stretch for Wocky (that’s what I call him to myself) to play a character like this (see above) but he rocked out Johnny Cash in a way that was eerie and amazing so I think he’s got the chops to play different from his own experience. Although I think my favorite role of his is the washed-up baseball player in Signs. No one loves that movie but me it seems. And I think it’s profound. He’s just the right mix of skeptic and believer in that film. I suspect we’ll see more of that in The Master.

Speaking of Scientology, isn’t the episode of South Park that deals with Scientology — Trapped in the Closet I think is the episode name — a bit like the Democrats’ platform in as much as Kyle doesn’t realize he’s depressed until the Scientologists tell him he is and we don’t realize we’re all a bunch of victims until the Dems point it out? Also, after watching the party of Occupy turn into the war party last night before my eyes, I’m more and more convinced that the Dems really are the party of the hopelessly uncreative. I mean, they just seem to steal ideas and rhetoric if it appears that the voters are gravitating toward those particular ideas or rhetoric. They seem incapable of coming up with anything on their own. Like the Gretchen Wieners of Politics. Mean Girls is just all over me lately…

Alright that’s all I have. The DAWGS are playing the newly SEC-ed Missouri team tomorrow evening so I’ll be there at 18th Amendment, hoping I see good signs for the future of our little Southern Conference and my Red & Black. Catch ya in a few days…

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So, this image was taken from this lady’s regular Wednesday Facebook post “Hump Day Hotties.” She’s profiling 80s hotties and admits that this is a newer image of said hottie because he’s like exponentially hotter now than he was in the 80s. And, seriously, there’s right, and then there’s that kind of right. Yowza.

Anyway, moving along. The headline for this was taken from here. I have no comments. I know where I stand. Do you?

The new book is fairly fascinating. The author got an undergrad degree in English (like yours truly) but always had a fascination with physics (also like yours truly) and, after working as a writer and editor for 6 or 7 years (also also like yours truly), went back to school and got a graduate degree in physics (mine was in public administration but I try to stay abreast of breaking developments in my hobby field). He also loves — LOVES — magic. He is, in fact, a magician. So far I can’t tell if he’s any good because he opens the book with an anecdote of humiliation and loss at the Magic Olympics. But one part of the book led me to have all kinds of crazy dreams last night — he mentions that magicians love mystery. Physicists love mystery as well. They are both interested in determining the “tells” of how people (in the case of the magician) or the world (in the case of the physicist) behave. The magician wants to be able to use that behavior to fool the person. The physicist, to understand the world. But here’s the part that I went to sleep thinking about: both disciplines love the mystery of how things work, but neither is really all that good at accepting the infinitely mysterious. This is not a fully formed notion. I just know that this idea is examined some in one of my fave films The Prestige and that a great many physicists — with some notable exceptions who are among some of my favorite people and thinkers — tend to think they have it all figured out. So, I’ll digress with that. But the book is pretty good. So I may ramble on about it at a future date.

So another cool thing: I got a birthday card from my sister-in-law and she requested that I write my 6-year-old nephew Gabriel back and that we attempt to start a pen pal kind of thing with each other. I’m so excited! Gabriel and I have a cool relationship — I’ve actually had fairly long conversations with him on the phone and he’s just a cool kid. My sis-in-law tells me he’s recently been asked to join the gifted program in his school so we’re kindred spirits that way. Two nerds masquerading as cool kids. As an aside, my gifted program (Discovery) provided me with some of the best memories I have of my youth. We took all these great long weekend trips. To Alabama’s Space Museum, to Gatlinburg, Tenn. (where I’m pretty sure I jumped off the side of a mountain on a glider attached to a zip line. Awesome.), to Savannah, Ga. And one of my former Discovery mates recently wished me a happy birthday on Facebook and all those memories came flooding back. I’m so excited for Gabriel. Can’t wait to hear all about it in a letter and to share some of my experiences with him. Most definitely a good.

Speaking of, my High School principal passed away. He was a nice man. And he was from here. I see signs in that kind of thing, but they aren’t always readily apparent…

Evil, evil capitalist pig.

This was an interesting read. I don’t know if I agree with all of it, but see if it’s something you can relate to.

I think I may need to just switch to bourbon for the month.

Here’s something I don’t really get: for all the smarty-pants intellectuals who love the guy, this, as my mother is fond of saying, “does not compute.”

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