Archive for March, 2013

Hey hey hey. So I’ve been all kvetchy about not getting to travel much since I started my new life here in DC. I’ve just had to apply all resources to getting some semblance of a life started and stable. (As an aside, one day I think I’ll write the story of the hows and whys of my decision to move to DC. There seems to be some misinformation afoot and, while generally I could care less what kind of bullshit people buy into, I’m feeling like it might be a bit redemptive to tell the story, the whole story. But today is not that day…) But it looks like that may be about to change. There could, in the coming year, be trips to Savannah, Louisiana, New York City to hang with my sister, and Vegas with cousins. All the touristy spots, I know. But it’s just how it’s worked itself out. My friend Baby D, who lives in Savannah, sent me this with a note saying that puddin’ pop here is at the Waycross, Ga. Humane Shelter, that I should come pick her up, and then swing by Savannah for a visit:

This is exactly what my dog self would look like. Fascinating.

This is exactly what my dog self would look like. Fascinating.

And the best part is that I’ll figure out how to do it on my own. There’s something satisfying about that. While I get the general flavor of an idea like this one:


I’m more comfortable in a partnership over a situation where I’m “achieving my dreams” on someone else’s dime. I have friends that require a certain amount in salary for their partner (or, increasingly, family money since we’re all broke anymore), but that’s not for me. I’ve seen too many people negotiate ethics and begin to spout off crazy ideas to keep the gravy flowing. To the point that they, as individuals, just sort…of…disappear. Sad. Anyway, enough of that. Other fun things:

Did y’all catch this:

Screen Shot 2013-03-01 at 3.01.31 PM

Hilarious. I feel like he should be a character on Modern Family. Or, ya know, just this guy:

In any event, the Trotter sent this as a capper to the gaffe.

A place that is on the list of “to-be-visited.” Shana and/or George, let’s go eat at one of these places…

Made the short walk to the sweet shop down the street with Silvers in hunt of some Mexican chocolate. Found these:

Beautiful. I need to just go and take pictures...

Beautiful. I need to just go and take pictures…

Next week I’m making this and bringing it to work. Which probabaly won’t stop me from walking to the sweet shop.

On the subject of Bob Woodward, I find it fascinating that Politico used the word “threat,” not Woodward. Perfect strawman: Make it bigger than it is, then blame Woodward for making it bigger than it is. As I noted elsewhere, personally, if someone spent an hour yelling at me, and then sent me an email and was all, “as a friend, I think you may regret” whatever position I was taking, I wouldn’t feel like it was innocuous. I’d feel like Tony Soprano was telling me that he had stopped allowing me to mess with his emotions and he was doing me a kindness in letting me know, in a gentler way, that I was out of favor and I needed to change course. In any event, Woodward not liking being told what position he should take is actually Woodward DOING HIS JOB CORRECTLY. As shocking as that may be to many, many, many, many, many, many political reporters working today.

Good stuff here. My first attempt at programming was to create a webpage that graphically told the story of my favorite poem. I think it was rad.

Not sure how I feel about these guys playing themselves. It’s just so masturbatory…

Someone, get this for me…

This, too…


Finally, this 4 year old boy is a boss. And he’s having fun. Which means his parents are also boss. Good stuff to end the week. I’ll be at Sidecar remembering Breitbart. And I’m not afraid to say it.

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